


Sun Comes Up

by Heronfem



Series: Golden Daze [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BDSM, BokuAkaKuroKen side pairing, Boys In Love, Canon Divergence, Collars, College, Complicated Relationships, Dacryphilia, Emotional Baggage, Hand Feeding, Hopeful Ending, Hypersexuality, Kink Negotiation, Leashes, M/M, One Night Stands, Overstimulation, Past Child Abuse, Past Sex Work, Past Violence, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Size Kink, Trans Kyoutani Kentarou, former KyouHaba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: Terushima Yuuji is a bisexual party animal, loves his life, and doesn't intend to change it. He's over his past, has left Miyagi far behind him, and wants nothing more than to carry on enjoying his current lifestyle in Tokyo while going to Chuo's game design program.And then he picks up Kyoutani Kentarou in a gay bar, and has to confront both his past and these weird new feelings in his chest.





	1. Shut the Windows

**Author's Note:**

> Reading 'feel like gold' isn't really required reading for this fic, it can be read as a stand alone. Just know that BokuAkaKuroKen live in a very nice house because Akaashi's family is super wealthy, Terushima and Kenma are in the game design program together and are unexpected friends.
> 
> This takes place between Part 3 and Part 4 of 'feel like gold'. Kyoutani and Terushima are both around 22.
> 
> You can find the playlist for this series here: https://8tracks.com/heronfem/sun-comes-up

The club scene in Tokyo is always a good time. Shinjuku is fun, Ikebukuro's underground raves are exciting, Chuo is wild on the weekends, and all told Yuuji's pretty pleased with his general luck overall in the city. Sendai had been lively, but Tokyo is a new kind of delicious excitement, a playground to explore and make his own. And boy, the gay clubs were a riot when they got going. He's officially a fan.

The night's still young when he slips into one of his favorites in Shinagawa-ku, waving to the bouncer as he does. The music is some sort of mid 2000's Euro-pop, as per usual, and the bar is populated but not crowded. It's been a long, long week, and he's more than ready for a good night out. The bar is a local gay hang out, fairly popular, and he enjoys the atmosphere. He waves to a couple people he's seen (and slept with) before, and heads for the bar. He's desperately in need of getting laid. The latest project the game course has been working on was a miserable one, even enough to piss off Kenma to the point of putting in the effort of sex with Bokuto which is saying something. Yuuji is so _very_ done with this month.

He orders a beer, and surveys his options. He's met a few of the people already, so he skips over them. They were acceptable but not mind blowing. There's a very cute couple in about the middle of the bar giggling as they share yakiniku, but he's not willing to go for a threesome tonight, as delightful as it sounds. He wants all the attention on _him_. Very cute twink of a boy is being flirted with by an absolute tank of a man (he mentally wishes them luck), three ultra butch older women are collecting their drinks and-

At the end of the bar, a stocky built, sturdy man with dark hair cut short and a leather jacket covered in studs and patches next to him sits nursing a drink. He's handsome, in a rough sort of way. Sharp features, dark eyes, a lip ring on the right side; he's the picture of a handsome punk. He's wearing a white tank top and dark wash jeans, which shows off his full sleeve of intricate flower and koi tattoos. At the top of his shoulder is a tattooed trans flag being held up by a _torii_ gate, a dog below it before the flowers and fish take over the rest of his arm. He looks like all sorts of trouble.

Yuuji likes trouble. 

“Hey there,” he says, leaning up against the bar. Tall, dark, and brooding gives him a long look. 

“Hi,” the guy says dryly. 

“Yuuji,” Yuuji offers, and after a long pause the man takes a drink.

“Kyou,” he says flatly, and Yuuji already likes the taste of it in his mouth. “I can see what you're doing, and you're a bit too pretty for my tastes. Not exactly my type.”

Yuuji props his chin in his hand, smirking. The bass is heavy and running heady through his bones, and for all Kyou's words he's still given him at least a once-over that didn't look too unpromising. Besides, he's everybody's type. He's a goddamn sexual chameleon, thank you very much. “I'd fish for compliments but I don't think you'd give them too me unless I put in some work for them first. And I'd be more than willing to work for them.”

Kyou snorts, taking another drink of his beer. “Forward of you.”

“Yeah, well, you're hot and I'm shameless.” Yuuji shrugs. 

He leans in, letting his hips stick out a bit to show off the long lines of his body. He's not exactly up to Kuroo's levels of muscled, but he's no slouch and being friends with Bokuto means that gym time is mandatory if your name is anything other than Kenma. Kyou glances along the lines of his body, as if judging whether or not he'd be worth it. There's a tiny smile on his lips.

“I'd wreck you,” he says dismissively, and Yuuji shivers pleasantly.

“Promise?” He purrs, and Kyou's intense brown eyes flick back to him. 

Fifteen minutes later he's being slammed up against Kyou's door, his apartment wonderfully short distance away from the bar. Kyou kisses like he's trying to subdue something, and he bites hard. Yuuji moans, delighted, and drags him in closer. His arms are already lightly scratched from the studs on Kyou's black leather jacket, and there's going to be zipper lines pressed into his stomach by the time they're done just in the entryway with how tight Kyou is against him. It's going to be a good night, he thinks in giddy excitement when Kyou pulls back.

“Couple ground rules,” he says, licking his swollen lips. Kyou raises an eyebrow but doesn't try to bulldoze over him. “I don't care if you choke me, bite me, fuck my face, whatever. I can handle pinching and getting flicked. But don't hit me. Feel free to leave any marks you want though, I'm down with anything but hitting.”

“Done,” Kyou says tersely. “Safewords?”

Yuuji grins, heat rushing through him. “Oh, so it's going to be like that?”

Kyou pushes him hard up against the wall again, and Yuuji sucks in a breath. “It's like that. Safewords?”

“Red, yellow, green,” Yuuji says. “Nice and simple. Any hard limits for you?”

“I don't bottom,” Kyou says flatly. “No fingers in me, no tongue, nothing. I know what I like and you don't, so don't try and guess. On me is fine, but in is out of the fucking question, got it?”

“That's fair.” Yuuji runs his hands over Kyou's chest, marveling at how sturdy he is. “Hey, think you could fuck me while holding me against the wall?”

“Not your call to make,” Kyou says flatly, and Yuuji's knees about give out.

Holy shit, he's the luckiest man alive. He'd die on the spot from delight but that would mean he'd never get what's shaping up to be the best sex of his life and he can't have that. Most people aren't willing to push him- he's slender and barely tops out at 5'9”, and he knows he looks like the very picture of a bratty twink. Few people are willing to look past that and actually see him, but Kyou's eyes are laser fixed and he definitely sees past the pretty wrapping on top.

Terushima Yuuji is going to have a damn good time tonight.

"You still with me?" Kyou asks simply, sliding two fingers under Yuuji's chin.

"Yes."

"Good." Kyou smiles, suddenly, eyes fixing razor sharp on his. "Let's have some fun."

oOo

Yuuji wakes up relatively early for a Sunday, his brain performing the usual checks of his surroundings. The room is nice, the body beside him is bulky and solid and snoring slightly, and according to his phone on the little bedside table (plugged in and fully charged, that's... weirdly nice), it's around 9:30 AM. He checks his texts- nothing important, a couple from Bobata with pictures of his very fluffy puppy and one from Kuroo that's a selfie with Fukuko, their very loud cat. His email is blissfully caught up, thank god, no one having a crisis about the game they're working on. Twitter is dead for once.

He's very comfortable. The bed is nice, sturdy, and he's pleasantly sore. For once his head and anxiety are both blissfully quiet, and he puts his phone down to look at his bed partner. The scars from his top surgery are so faint they look more like shadows under seriously built pecs, and Yuuji feels oddly pleased to just look at him. Kyou is admittedly exactly his type, bulky and strong and undeniably alpha in all that he does but still careful not to break him more than he wants. The sex had been excellent. Perfect, even. He's never had that good of a time.

He should probably be sneaking out about now. Get dressed, leave. Slip away when he isn't looking. And yet... he doesn't want to. Yuuji watches Kyou sleep, biting his lip. He wants another round, and maybe a few after that. It was so rarely that people actually ticked all his boxes when it came to male partners. He isn't looking forward to mediocre so-called Daddy-doms thinking they can control him, or people being cautious with him because he's so slender. Kyou hadn't done any of that. Hadn't asked for a title, let alone demanded one. Hadn't hesitated to pin him, manhandle him, hadn't tried to belittle him for how much obvious joy he was taking in having someone who knew what they were doing. Kyou simply _was_ , full of control and a quiet sort of strength, in the way that Yuuji was willing to submit rather than making Kyou work for it, and he'd made that submission mean something worthwhile. 

Yuuji hears a door slam and footsteps down the hall, and immediately starts checking for potential escape routes, grabbing his phone. Kyou comes awake beside him lightning fast, dark eyes flicking to the door and tensing. 

“Kentarou, I swear to fucking god, if you don't stop letting your phone die and making me think you're dead you really _will_ be dead,” a sharp voice complains, and the door to the bedroom opens up. Yuuji tenses, but Kyou actually relaxes as a tall man with a truly horrific and fussy haircut steps in and freezes.

“Fuck off, Shige,” Kyou mutters, as Terushima stares into the face of Yahaba Shigeru. “The fuck do you want this early?”

Yahaba doesn't seem to have heard him, and is instead staring at Yuuji like he's some sort of ghost. “What the _fuck_?”

“I'll leave,” Yuuji offers, because oh, god. This can't be happening. Yahaba Shigeru of Aoba Johsai is in the bedroom of a one night stand, and Yuuji is a fucking disgraced captain who's in the bed of someone he clearly likes. Oh, fuck, _this cannot be happening_ , he's going to be destroyed if he just fucked Yahaba Shigeru's boyfriend. “I just need to get my clothes-”

“Why is Terushima Yuuji in your bedroom?” Yahaba demands, tearing his eyes away from Yuuji to look at Kyou. “Kyoutani Kentarou, answer me!”

Kyoutani. Kentarou.

He looks different now, with two, nearly three years of growing up under his belt. The blond is gone, of course, and he's bulked out considerably. There's also the tattoos to consider, the lip ring, and the fact that he dresses like a punk. Yuuji had never seen him out of his school or volleyball uniform. But now that he turns, he can see it. The same heavy eyes, set oddly so that there's deep shadows under them, the sharp chin and short nose- it's definitely Seijoh's former ace, Iwaizumi's protege and replacement. Yuuji wonders if the universe is out to get him as Kyoutani rolls his eyes.

“Am I supposed to know the name?” Kyou- _Kyoutani_ growls, rolls onto his side, and flops a possessive arm over Yuuji. “Stop squirming, I'll make him leave in a minute. Shigeru, you're making him uncomfortable. Go away, I wanted a morning round.”

Yahaba stares at the pair of them. “Oh my god,” he realizes, “you two never met.”

Kyoutani looks very done with the whole situation, but Yuuji couldn't care less. Yahaba's right. Yuuji had seen him a couple of times, but they never went up against each other. The most they ever did was pass in the halls once or twice at the Spring tournament. He'd been stripped of Captaincy by the time the fall tournaments came around their third year. And while his disgrace was public news, it wouldn't have seemed important to Kyoutani. Kyoutani didn't know. Kyoutani wouldn't have pitied him. Kyoutani had no idea who he was when he brought him back.

“Why would we have met?” Kyoutani snaps.

“I was Captain of Johzenji's team for a minute there,” Yuuji says, meeting Yahaba's suddenly ashamed eyes. “I got kicked out after the administration found out about my boyfriend. By the time fall tournament time came around I was already out and banned from the team.”

Kyoutani sits up, shocked. “ _What_?”

“It's old news,” Yuuji says, feeling the pain of it blooming fresh in his chest. Old news, sure, but it's still an ugly wound. It festers in his chest some days- the knowledge that something he loved, something he found so much joy in, was ripped away from him. “I'm over it.”

He's a bad liar.

“I'm fucking not,” Yahaba mutters vindictively. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “How did you two even meet?”

Yuuji is about done with the twenty questions routine. His heart is racing and old fear is curdling in his stomach, so he just says, “A bar.”

“Shigeru, I'm not dead and I've got a very hot man in my bed who I'd like to get back to,” Kyoutani says, expression pissed. Yuuji feels his cheeks heat up faintly. “Did you need something, or can I go back to blowing his mind?”

Yahaba looks like he's got something else weighing on his mind, something to say, but he shakes his head. “No, sorry. Just... charge your damn phone, Kentarou, so I know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Kyoutani grunts something that might be agreement, and with one last look Yahaba shuts the door and leaves them alone. Yuuji's heart is still going faster than he'd like, and it only slows after the front door slams again. Kyoutani flops back down on the bed and hooks an arm around him so they're spooned up together. His heart rate falls and falls until it's even again, and Yuuji tentatively rests his hand on Kyoutani's.

“Terushima's a hell of a mouthful,” Kyoutani mutters, nosing at one of the marks on his neck. “Yuuji's a lot better.”

Yuuji snorts. “Couldn't you have left the opening for a dick joke about a mouthful?”

Kyoutani bites him, hard, and Yuuji whimpers. “Not a fucking chance. Up for another round before you try and fail to sneak out of here?”

“What, you don't want to reminisce?” Yuuji can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Kyoutani snorts, and presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to his neck. Yuuji bites his lip, the tiny motion making something his his chest ache with relief. “The past is the past. Shit happens. Shit happened. I was a fucking disaster, you got put through a lot of bullshit, and now we're here as two people who don't know a fuckin' thing about each other except that we both like rough sex and you look pretty when you cry.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Yuuji says, and just about wails as Kyoutani drags his nails down the line of bruises he left over Yuuji's chest last night.

Yuuji thinks this might be what love is.

“I really didn't think I was into dacryphilia,” Kyoutani says absently as he straddles Yuuji's hips, looking down at him. “I think I've been proved otherwise. You make the best faces when you're all overwhelmed.”

“Always proud to help others discover their kinks,” Yuuji says, a little breathless as Kyoutani barks out a laugh. “God, you're hot.”

Kyoutani laughs again, throwing his head back and smiling, and Yuuji's heart actually skips a beat.

oOo

They do have a round, then a second round that has Yuuji screaming, and Kyoutani cooks breakfast while Yuuji showers. He eats, they exchange one last blisteringly hot kiss that just about turns Yuuji into a puddle of panting want, and then he's catching a train to four wards over.

He needs to talk to Kenma.

Yuuji isn't the type for going a few different rounds with the same person. He's straightforward like that. He likes what he likes, doesn't try to do something crazy with it, and generally isn't interested for more rounds. He doesn't have any personal rules against it, it's just... well, it's just that he's not too keen to fall in love with someone and deal with the heartbreak that he dealt with before. He's not about that life. He doesn't like the tug that keeps happening in his chest when he thinks about Kyoutani in boxers and sweet fuck all else, bulky shoulders bathed in morning sunlight as he cooks. 

He always looks out of place when he comes to their neighborhood, but that's to be expected. Everyone but Akaashi looks out of place in this neighborhood, where the wealth is high and the property values are ridiculous. He waves to the police at their little guard box, and they wave back. After being stopped three times, Akaashi had lost his patience and had a conversation with them. Since then, they've not stopped him. Akaashi exists in a world separate from his, sometimes, one where with a couple of polite phone calls and some name dropping suddenly Yuuji can become a welcome guest.

He rings the bell to the Akaashi house, and Kuroo opens the door in grey sweatpants and exactly nothing else. Yuuji's brain short circuits.

“Hey,” Kuroo says, yawning. “Rough night?”

“Technically, yes,” Yuuji says as his brain comes back online. Fucking hell, Kuroo never stops looking like he walked out of some sort of particularly erotic painting. Bokuto's almost as bad. Keiji's beauty is too sacred to be painted. “Kenma up?”

“He should be.” Kuroo steps aside to let him in, and shuts the door behind him. “Last I saw he was playing with Bo though, so he might be napping.”

“Game playing or sex playing?”

“Sex playing.” Kuroo stretches, and Yuuji resists the urge to swoon. Kenma is so fucking lucky. “Third year stress seems to be pissing him off a lot lately if how much work Bokuto's been putting in in bed is anything to judge by. It didn't look too involved, though, I can see if they're done.”

Akaashi comes out from the kitchen in what looks like one of Kuroo's shirts and some absolutely minuscule shorts, coffee in hand. “If who's done? Hello, Terushima-san.”

“Akaashi, please, just Terushima.”

“Of course, just-Terushima-san.” Akaashi sips his coffee.

“Do you know if Kenma and Bo are done playing?” Kuroo asks, sliding an arm around Akaashi's waist to reel him in for a kiss. Akaashi obligingly tips his head up to receive it, still soft from sleep and pliant in Kuroo's hands. Yuuji is so very, very gay.

“Mm. That. They should be,” Akaashi says thoughtfully as he pulls back, smiling a little. “I'll go get him and make sure Bokuto hasn't expired.”

“Have I mentioned how much I like that you guys are so open about sex?” Yuuji asks, and Kuroo snickers as Akaashi rolls his eyes and walks away. Kuroo and Yuuji both watch him go in appreciation. They are very, _very_ short shorts. “It's nice.”

Kuroo leads him into the front sitting room, directing him to the couch. “Want some food? I'm not completely done cooking breakfast yet.”

“I'm good, I already ate.”

Kuroo wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Fuck _off_ ,” Yuuji laughs, pulling his jacket off. “Nah, he made pancakes. Really good ones, too.”

“Lucky you. Just a one nighter, or do you think you'll try and meet up with him again?” Kuroo drops into one of the overstuffed chairs. Everything in the house has bold, clean lines, and the sitting room is especially nice, with two chairs, a nice wooden table holding a sturdy stone sculpture of a goddess carrying a baby, and bookshelves on the walls to the right of the couch. It's comfortable and warm in the house, and Yuuji never feels so safe as when he's there. It helps that Kuroo, for all his cheerful admittance that he doesn't much care for sex, never judges him for his choices. 

“I dunno. I got his number just in case,” Yuuji says. Kyoutani had given him a long look before they exchanged numbers, but seemed quietly pleased. “He was so fucking hot, Kuroo, it was obscene. He was maybe like, an inch taller than me, and built like Bokuto. Just so fuckin' thick with muscles. I'm so gay, bro.”

Kuroo looks up as Kenma walks in, looking very put out and dressed in extremely mismatched clothes.

“Matcha! My favorite person. We need to talk, like, right now.”

Kenma makes a disgruntled noise. “Now?”

“ _Now_.”

“Can it wait until I shower?”

“Matcha-”

“I'm filthy.”

“ _Fine_. I'll wait in the den.” Yuuji gets up, and Kenma rolls his eyes as they head upstairs to Kuroo's laughter. He reaches out to hold loosely to Kenma's shirt, a familiar and comforting habit, and Kenma gives him a fond sort of look as they reach the second level. 

“It'll be just a minute,” Kenma tells him, and heads up to the third floor master suite. Yuuji goes to Kenma's cramped but clean little den, and curls up on the fold out futon couch inside. Yuuji loves Kenma's den, with its systems and TV's and overwhelming desk, and the poster Yuuji had made him for Quest for Hope's release framed and hung proudly on the wall. It feels like being safely tucked away in some happy little gaming paradise. Kenma doesn't really like collecting things that go with games (though he is weak for Monster Hunter events and has a lot of pictures from dragging Kuroo to them), but the games themselves are lovingly maintained and shelved. Akaashi is the one that keeps them organized, but Kenma is careful with them. 

He pulls out his phone, surprised to see a text from Kyoutani waiting. He opens it, and goes red. 

“Oh my god,” he squeaks.

It's a picture of Kyoutani's abs, magnificently sculpted and still showing the spot where Yuuji bit him during the night. The lighting is perfect, there's a faint hint of the hair leading down from his navel, and Yuuji wants to print the thing out and hang it on his wall.

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
enjoy, brat

Yuuji bites his knuckle to keep from whimpering. If this is what being bratty gets him, he can't wait to see what behaving nicely would. 

_Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
holy shit. #blessed

His head is still spinning when Kenma walks in, still dressed like his clothing choices were predetermined by a random generator. He's pretty sure the shirt is one of Bokuto's, because he can't think of anyone else who would have an orange shirt that reads “GLORY OF THE ACE” on it, and the pants have to be Kuroo's with how long they are. Kenma flops onto the couch, tosses him a controller, and turns on the TV to reveal Portal Co-op ready to go. 

“So,” Yuuji says, used to Kenma's form of communication. He picks Atlas. “I went out last night, and I met a someone. The usual sort of stuff happened, except it got complicated.”

Kenma starts the game. 

“His name's Kyoutani Kentarou. He was Aoba Johsai's ace after Iwaizumi and Oikawa left. I didn't know it at the time, he's changed his look a lot, but uh. Well. I didn't know who he was at the time, he just said his name was Kyou.” Yuuji gnaws at his lip. “He's my year, but we never met. I did meet Yahaba- that's the baby setter that became captain after Oikawa, I met him a couple times before everything went to shit. Turns out he and Kyoutani are close, because he came barging into Kyoutani's place this morning before we got up and told Kyoutani who I was.” He waits for Kenma to do his portion of the puzzle. “Kyoutani didn't care about the past. Didn't want to reminisce or anything, he just put me through my paces instead and goddamn, I want to see him more.”

Kenma raises his eyebrows, turning to look at him.

“I _know_. Me, wanting to see someone again. It was just that good.” Yuuji groans. “There was just something about him, you know? I dunno.” He gnaws at his lip again, guiding Atlas to where he needs to go. “It was... good. And nice. It was like he just saw who I am. Not the old captain from Miyagi, or the face I put on for when I go out. Just... me. He treated me like I was tough and smart and didn't try and patronize me. He just... met me on my own terms.”

“And you don't know how to deal with that,” Kenma concludes, firing the next portal. 

“Basically.”

Kenma hums, directing P-Body around. “Yuuji.”

“Yeah?”

“You sleep with shitty people.”

“It's been said.” Multiple times, even. Now that he and Oikawa are finally on speaking terms, so long as high school isn't brought up, Oikawa and Iwaizumi have both been rather unimpressed with the quality of the people he fucks. Not that it's hugely surprising, considering the two childhood friends. But he hasn't been dating any of his lays, so it hardly matters.

Kenma fires a portal, and looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “You know what it sounds like?”

“What?”

“It sounds like when I met Shouyou.”

Yuuji fumbles the controller. “I- what-”

“Sometimes you just find people who fit with you perfectly.” He shrugs, looking back at the screen. “People who meet you at your level. You don't have to marry him. Maybe just... think about being around him some more. If it works, it works. If not, Tokyo's a big city and it's not like he'd be difficult to avoid.”

Yuuji nods, and focuses on the game.

They get through four more levels before Kenma says, “He was that good?”

“Oh my _god_ , Kenma,” Yuuji explodes with relief. “I thought I was going to ascend straight to heaven, he was so hot.” He spills everything, because Kenma is nothing if not eternally patient with his antics. Kozume Kenma is a damn good friend. 

Bokuto appears after a couple of levels, absolutely covered in hickeys and wearing sweatpants with “HOT STUFF” on the ass, and flops on the floor before them. Yuuji snickers at the smug look on Kenma's face. Bokuto groans, loudly.

“When d'you guys graduate,” Bokuto asks the floor. “I dunno if I have enough stamina to keep this up. Never thought I'd say that about Kenma.”

“I believe in you, big guy,” Yuuji says sympathetically. “You've just got... 9 months to go.”

“Fuuuuuck.”

Kenma shrugs. “I mean-”

“Oh god no, I'm not ready! Take pity on me!”

Yuuji laughs as Kenma rests his feet on Bokuto's back like he's a coffee table to Bokuto's vocal dismay, and feels much better about the whole affair.


	2. Turn Off the Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: Discussion of past suicide attempts, discussion of past child abuse (Kuroo's, and Terushima's a bit).

Kuroo drives a once white 91' Honda Civic that's more rust than anything else, and if not for the fact that Yuuji is the disowned son of a decent mechanic and Kuroo is an enthusiastic student in the fine art of life improvement, the car would be long gone. Kuroo has poured time and energy into the little beast, to the point of ridiculous. But all the same, the poor little thing looks like it's at the end of its rope on any given day.

And now, it's the transmission that's going bad.

“Look,” Yuuji says gently as Kuroo stares at the engine and looks like he might cry, “we can get a second opinion.”

Kuroo sniffles. “Can we?”

“I'm sure Iwaizumi has a mechanic he goes to in the city,” Yuuji soothes. The car is important to Kuroo, one of the first things that helped him to feel independent. “I know you love Shirayuki a lot, okay? We'll take her to someone and see what they say.”

Kuroo nods, still looking like he's going to cry, and Yuuji gently hugs him, not bothering to be careful about the grease on his hands. Kuroo's in his least wearable clothes for a reason. 

“Hey, you're okay. I know she's important to you, I know she's a big symbol of you making progress. We'll make sure and do everything we can.”

Kuroo nods again and hugs him back, very tight. Yuuji accepts this is his life for the next three minutes, and just holds him.

They clean up once Kuroo's back in control of himself, and Yuuji makes his way to the kitchen to find Akaashi sipping a glass of wine. He glances at the clock. “Little early for that, isn't it?” he asks. It's 2 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

“It's either have a glass of wine and calm down or call Kuroo's therapist for an emergency session,” Akaashi sighs, pressing the glass to his head. “I'm trying to not be nervous about the car. It's... important. And you know that I get very nervous if anything comes in the way of Kuroo's mental health improving. I do _not_ like where being nervous about that sends me. I don't like thinking about it, I don't like worrying about it, I don't like having to think about what he and my father went through.”

Yuuji leans on the counter, raising an eyebrow. “Your dad?”

“He tried to kill himself a couple different times,” Akaashi says, taking another drink of his wine. “His parents were extremely physically abusive. I have routine nightmares where I wake up and find that Kuroo was just a hallucination and has been dead for years after killing himself.”

Yuuji stared. “Jesus, Akaashi.”

“The wine is helping.”

“Would you like a bigger glass?”

Akaashi gives him a tight smile, exhaling shakily. “I'll be fine.” He sets the glass down, bracing his arms on the counter as he looks at it. “I shouldn't drink when I'm like this, anyway. It probably constitutes trying to use it for self-medicating and that does no one any good.”

“Want me to finish it for you instead?”

Akaashi stares at the glass for a long moment, then nods. “Finish it and take the bottle with you, I need to go hold Kuroo.”

He pushes off and leaves the kitchen, and Yuuji doesn't regret taking the wine and drinking it all in one gulp. It's probably good wine, because Akaashi could probably fall in the category of “Classy Little Shit” when he likes, but the thought of Kuroo dead and bloody is in his head now and he doesn't want to think about _that could have been me_. He grabs the bottle, checking the label and noting that it is, in fact, a very nice wine. He puts the bottle in his bag, closing it up, and leaves the kitchen. He can hear Akaashi and Kuroo talking in the sitting room, and fully intends to walk up the stairs to wash off in the second floor bathroom when the voices give him pause.

“- wine, Kuroo, I don't want to be like that.”

“Hey,” and that's definitely Kuroo's voice, soft and reassuring, “it's okay, babe. You're okay. One bad day doesn't a habit make.”

“You know better than anyone that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

There's a soft sound, definitely a kiss, and Yuuji's heart twists. “You're a good man, Keiji. Look, I promise if it becomes a habit we'll stop it. But you don't need to worry.”

“I absolutely do- I won't be like _him_. I have a temper, even if I keep it in check. I won't _ever_ let myself become a potential threat to you.”

“Keiji. Babe. It's okay. I'm not bothered by you drinking.”

“But-”

Yuuji's heard enough. He knows that Kuroo's parents were abusive, and listening in on this conversation is a little too much like active eavesdropping when he hasn't been trusted with that information yet, so he walks up to the second floor bathroom and turns the shower on hot.

oOo

A few days later Yuuji slumps in the passenger seat of Kuroo's car and watches out the window as they drive into an area of Tokyo that wouldn't look out of place in Miyagi, with old houses in various states of disrepair, lots of trees, and an air of determined perseverance. It's clearly not a bad neighborhood- everything just looks run down, but the people on the street are all in good moods and the shops look like they're surviving despite the clear poverty.

“Okay, I know this is the guy that Iwaizumi goes to,” Yuuji says at last, “but like. We're practically in Kanagawa now. Didn't he know someone closer?”

“I asked, but he said this was the best guy,” Kuroo says, shrugging helplessly. “It's not like we were doing anything today.”

“That's fair,” Yuuji sighs. He sits up properly, looking around at street signs. “We're pretty close- next right, and then it should be on the left.”

They turn, and the shop is right where it should be. It's a small place, with just two bays for cars and an attached office, and cars in the lot in front in various states of torn apart. Kuroo pulls in and parks off to the side on the gravel. The pair of them climb out, and Yuuji looks around in interest. His father's shop had been pretty similar, a little bigger and a little cleaner, but the smell of oil and gasoline is unchanging. Kuroo leads them to the bay, where bright pop is playing. There's someone working under the car in a grey jumpsuit tied around their waist with a white tank top on, covered in oil, and Yuuji feels a stab of homesickness. It's unseasonably warm for the end of February, barely even light jacket weather.

“Excuse us,” Kuroo calls, and Yuuji resists the urge to bolt when gray-jumpsuit slides out from under the car to reveal that he is, in fact, Yahaba Shigeru. Kuroo doesn't catch how Yuuji freezes, or how Yahaba suddenly looks horrified. “Hey, I'm Kuroo Tetsurou. Iwaizumi Hajime sent me to you, I called yesterday?”

“R-right,” Yahaba says faintly, getting up. “Yahaba Shigeru, nice to meet you. '91 Civic, right? Transmission's probably going?”

“That's me.”

“Right.” Yahaba's eyes flick to Yuuji. “I just need to finish tightening up the bolts on this and I'll start looking at it. If you want there's a decent stack of books in the office, or there's a soba place around the corner.”

“I'll wait in the office,” Kuroo says, smiling his most charming smile. 

“Great. Um-”

“I'll stay out here and help you,” Yuuji blurts out, because oh god they need to get this over with _fast_. “Kuroo, I'll be right in. I just want to talk to Yaha- Yahaba- _san_ for a second.”

Kuroo gives him a look but nods and leaves, and Yuuji walks forward until he's leaning against the post between the bays. 

Yahaba gives him a long, slow look.

“Will you believe me if I tell you that I had no idea it was going to be you?” Yuuji says, keeping his voice low. Yahaba makes a face.

“I saw your face when you saw me, so yes.” He wipes his hands off with a rag.

“I had no idea you were a mechanic.” Yuuji looks him over. The haircut is misleading. Looks like the prissy little guy has a spine under there after all. Yahaba makes a face like he's just stepped in something nasty at the once-over. 

Getting back on the creeper, Yahaba rolls back under the car. “It's my uncles place, officially, but I run it. Pass me that torque wrench.” Yuuji does. “I did automotive engineering at a university here in Tokyo, and then he got sick. So officially I'm on leave while he gets better. Have been for two years, going on three now. I've been around cars since I was little, it seemed like the right choice rather than making one of my brothers come down from Miyagi. Besides,” his voice gets bitter, “they're doing business courses.”

Yuuji crosses his arms, looking at him. Yahaba has some serious muscle, deceptive when you look at him. “So you going to Seijoh...”

“I was a poor kid on scholarship there, middle of my class when my brothers had been top of theirs, and nobody lets me forget it. Oikawa-san was the one who pulled strings with the coach to make overtures for me.” Yahaba hands the torque wrench back, and Yuuji takes it. “Screwdriver, that super long one up top.”

“Flathead?”

“That's it.”

Yuuji passes it down. “So, you're stuck running a small time garage on the edge of Tokyo while your brothers get on with their lives and presumably their high-powered careers.”

“That's about the sum of it.”

“Fuckin' shitty luck, oh captain.”

Yahaba whacks him with the handle of the screwdriver. “Don't call me that.”

“Turn about's fair play.” Yuuji looks absently around the shop. It's pretty clean, all told. “Hey, so what's the deal with you and Kyoutani?”

There's a pause under the car, and Yahaba lets out a heavy sigh. “We're exes. We had a lot of hate sex in high school, moved to Tokyo together, turned out to be fucking awful as a real partnership. We're decent friends but that's about it. He just likes to piss me off and go running around Tokyo at all times of the day or night and tends to get himself into trouble. I've had to bail him out a couple times after he got into fights over someones honor. That tattoo of his doesn't help, the police see him and immediately think yakuza. They see me with him, they think I own a fucking chop shop, so it's really about sixes.”

“Rude of them,” Yuuji muses. 

“Yeah, well, welcome to Tokyo.” Yahaba rolls back out, huffing a sigh. “I know your folks had a shop, so did you take a look at Kuroo-san's car?”

“Yeah. It's the transmission for sure, but... look, he loves this car like it's his baby, okay?” Yuuji says. “It's basically a walking symbol of his improving mental health. So be gentle?”

Yahaba sighs, throwing the rag over his shoulder. “Fine. What's your best guess?”

“That the car's over 25 years old and just finally nearing the end of its life. I mean, it's a Honda, they're about as durable as it gets, they go for fucking ever.” 

“That's true.” Yahaba sighs. “I'll do a full work up on it, just to see what all needs to be done, maybe some preventative work. I don't know if I'm going to have good news for him, though.”

“Just break it to him gently. Keys are in the cupholder.”

Yahaba grimaces, but he nods. “Fine.” 

Yuuji watches him walk away, but then calls, “Hey.”

Yahaba turns back, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. It's a little freaky how much he looks like Oikawa when he does that. 

“Do I have you to thank for Kyoutani being a fucking sex god, or is he just like, naturally that good?”

“I fucking hate you, Terushima.”

oOo

The news is not good.

Yahaba delivers the list of problems to Kuroo like someone would if they'd just suffered a bereavement, which Yuuji appreciates more than he can say. Kuroo looks at the list, his lips pressed tight together.

“There's a couple things we could do to prolong it,” Yahaba says, his voice honestly quite gentle, “but at this point it's just waiting for the inevitable. I checked over every inch of it, made sure that there was no stone left unturned in case it was something else more simple, and I wrote down all the things that needed fixing. It's a good car, and you've honestly done an amazing job keeping it going so far. It would be about the cost of a car 20 years younger to replace everything, with the amount of work that would need to be put in. Replacing the transmission alone wouldn't be cheap, even if I'd do it at discount because honestly I owe Oikawa-san a favor or eighty, but the transmission on top of everything else is... not great.”

Kuroo nods, looking at the list. It's a very, very long list. 

Yuuji rubs his back between his shoulder blades. “You okay, bro?”

Kuroo shakes his head tightly, and Yahaba excuses himself quietly to return to the back of the shop. 

“I hate this,” Kuroo whispers, his voice hoarse. “I knew this was coming, I knew it wouldn't be a long time, but I _hate_ this, I love that little car. I bought it with cash, I put so much time and love and energy into it.”

“I know.”

Kuroo looks at the list. “I know it's replaceable. I can always get another car. But it's _my_ car. It's one of the first things I really did all for myself, because I wanted to. It feels- it feels like it's being ripped away from me.”

Oh boy. Yuuji can feel his own throat tightening up, and he gently takes Kuroo's hands in his. “Hey.” 

Kuroo looks up from under his bangs, golden eyes a little shinier than normal. 

“I know exactly what you're talking about, okay?” Yuuji says, keeping his voice gentle. “I know what that's like. You've put your heart and soul into this, I've watched you learn how to do so many things just to work on her. But this part of your life, this is coming to a close. You're coming up on graduation pretty soon. Just a couple more months and you're going to be out in the wilderness of real adulthood, working and getting ready to open a whole restaurant. As hard as it is, you have to let chapters of your life close to open new ones. I was scared shitless to leave Miyagi. I'd never even seen Tokyo before I came to live here. But I found Kenma, and you, and Akaashi, and Bokuto, and so many more people. I left behind a whole life, and look where I am now. I don't regret the things that happened in Miyagi- well, I regret some of them. Like the thing with the feathers and the skirt, I really regret that, but! I don't regret that the chapter of my life there came to a close and a new one opened. Because this is a better place. Sometimes you have to let go of good things to find better things.”

Kuroo looks down at their hands, and nods quietly. 

“After graduation,” he says hesitantly, “will you go looking with me for a car?”

“I will,” Yuuji promises. His throat feels a little tight. “And we'll keep looking until we find exactly the right one. Okay?”

Kuroo nods again, taking a deep breath and forcing his shoulders to relax. “Okay.”

They make arrangements with Yahaba to do some minor tune ups that'll last Kuroo at least a few more months, and Yahaba takes pity on Kuroo and shows him how to do a few things himself to help. Yuuji's heart eases a little to see that, and he leaves the two to work on the car while he goes around the corner for soba. He's rattled and upset, and hates how his chest feels torn up from thinking about the past. If he could just heal enough for scar tissue instead of ripping open the wound every few months, that would be great.

He sits in the soba restaurant, orders something simple, and pulls out his phone.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
Accidentally ran into Yahaba today, it's been weird.  
My friend is getting his car fixed by him.  
I need to get out of my head, you available to blow my mind again?

He closes his phone, not expecting a fast response. The soba arrives at his table and he digs in, the taste soothing to the tongue. Bobata loves soba, and so did his sister. He wonders if she still likes it. They haven't spoken in almost four years now. Her only response to him being outted had been to block his number, his Facebook, and any other way of getting in contact with her. Fumie is 25 now, he's pretty sure. He misses her, sometimes. He'd thought they'd been decent friends, once. She'd been a good sister right up until he needed her the most. 

Right up until he'd been in the hospital with a split lip, bruises, cuts, and a couple different broken bones. Good times with the Terushima family.

His phone beeps, and he picks it up.

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
sure. I'm home around 7. 

_Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
thank fuck. it's been a real shitty day. 

**Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
That bad?

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
I'm not in a great headspace.  
While i'm rational enough to think about it, don't let me ask for any punishing shit.  
I don't actually want it, just feel like I deserve it.

Yuuji sighs, hating that he knows he has to clarify that. Kyoutani, he's pretty sure, would see right through him in a heartbeat, but he's not willing to take the risk and send himself spiraling into deeper self hate after. He likes sex. He likes it a lot. He likes it with basically anybody outside of the really brutal sadists, the ones who don't care about his limits. He doesn't want sex to turn into any sort of thing that he feels bad about liking. The world's done its best to fuck up his enjoyment of romance, it doesn't get to take away loving orgasms too.

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
done. 

Yuuji sighs with relief, setting his phone aside. It pings again, surprising him, and he picks it back up.

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
what's your outlook on shibari

Yuuji chokes on his soba. The Obaa-chan behind the counter looks concerned, but he waves her off.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
10/10 would recommend, love it  
are you telling me you can do ropework

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
everybody needs a hobby.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
HOW ARE YOU REAL

He finishes his soba in a much better mood, and is walking back to Yahaba's shop when his phone pings one more time.

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
Bring an overnight bag. 

_Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
Forward of you Kyou-kun~~~ 

**Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
I liked waking up with you.  
Also you think you're walking once I'm done with you?  
That's cute.

“ _Sweet merciful titty-fuck,_ ” Yuuji hisses, stopping dead to stare at his phone. A passing old man gives him a dirty look, which he completely ignores in favor of gaping like a landed fish. Is Kyoutani actually trying to kill him? Because it's definitely working.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
holy shit. will do  
for the record I am def a fan of morning sex  
that was nice.

Yuuji puts his phone in his pocket and returns to find Yahaba and Kuroo talking animatedly about some show they both like, and sighs. He didn't want this to be a thing. He really, really didn't want to have to share his friends with Yahaba _fucking_ Shigeru. Oikawa's bad enough, pretty and clever and accomplished. But it looks like Kuroo's made a friend, and he likes Kuroo too much to be mad. So long as no one expects him to be buddy-buddy with the guy, it'll be fine.

“You're back,” Kuroo says cheerfully. “We're good to go.”

He looks better than he had before, and Yuuji feels tension ease from his shoulders. “Awesome. You've got the bill settled?”

Yahaba waves his hand. “Kuroo-kun did half of the work anyway. I'm not concerned about it.”

“Kind of you,” Yuuji says, and means it. Yahaba shrugs. 

“Let me know if anything goes wrong. I can probably go out to you and check on it if needed, you have our card,” Yahaba says.

Yuuji grimaces. “You don't want to make house calls to their neighborhood,” he says as Kuroo climbs into the car. “It's the kind of place where the help has help and they judge you if you wear anything but khakis for recreational activities. Kuroo's boy is crazy wealthy.”

“Nah,” Kuroo says, shrugging. “Keiji just inherited a multi-million dollar house and a chunk of change big enough to buy a small island that he gets when he turns 25. We upset the delicate neighborhood ecosystem by doing our own laundry and, god forbid, cleaning our own house. We're following in the fine, fine footsteps of Akaashi Fusazane, who once bucked the social strata by taking off his coat and laying it down on the street so that a maid wouldn't get her feet dirty when a puddle formed. You'd fit right in.”

“Dear lord,” Yahaba says, staring at Kuroo like he's some sort of alien.

“It's a hell of a change,” Kuroo says in full understanding. “Not having to worry about eating or black mold is _wild_.”

They drive back out, the car sounding much better as they go, and Yuuji leans against the door.

“So you know Yahaba?” Kuroo asks, signalling to turn. 

“Yes and no.” Yuuji fiddles with his jacket, looking at the world passing by. “Yahaba was Oikawa's pet project. A baby setter. He was the captain after Oikawa. We had a relationship that was, uh, let's call it antagonistic at best. He didn't like me because I was loud and obnoxious and unashamed of sleeping around. I didn't like him because he was a brat and his hair was annoying and he was a menace when Oikawa wasn't on the court. And then after- after everything went down, then he was a part of volleyball and that hurt way too much to think about.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Yuuji glances over, and is a little surprised to see that Kuroo means it. He sighs, sitting back in his seat.

“I dunno. What is there to tell? I liked boys. I fucked boys. I liked girls. I fucked girls. I liked one boy in particular, got caught liking him, and learned a lesson about homophobia that Oikawa and Yahaba never had to. My parents kicked me out after breaking my arm and a couple ribs, I lost all of my possessions except what I could carry, I loved aforementioned boy right up until I didn't, I dealt with people being genuinely awful at school and calling me all sorts of shit, and I barely graduated because teachers kept “losing” my assignments. It was an ugly, shitty year.” Yuuji stares dead ahead, and huffs out a sigh. “I keep saying I've put the past behind me, and I mostly have. But then this shit happens. I think I'm good moving to a whole new city? Surprise, bitch, turns out Oikawa Tooru is friends with your new bestie's boyfriends, plural. I try and have a nice one night stand? Surprise, you slut, it's the ace from Seijoh. I go run an errand, woops! It's said one night stand's ex and former captain, who got everything you didn't except now he's in a tough place and your situations are flipped. Huzzah.”

Kuroo sighs as they ease into the traffic leading into Tokyo proper. “Now I know you're upset.”

“Why?”

“Because of all the words that you joke about, slut is never one of them.”

Yuuji looks out the window. “I don't like it when people use it to refer to me. It's different if I'm the one doing it about myself. I can make it a joke. I can make it something different than what it used to be.”

“And what's that?”

“A descriptor.” Yuuji's eyes burn a little. It must be the sun. “Slut, whore, stuff like that, people... people call me that a lot. I can take it, most of the time. I am, by definition, a slut. I sleep around, I'm promiscuous, I don't usually go to the same partner twice. But I'm not just that. I hate it when people think they can pin me in that box. I'm fourth best in the game program, I have a fucking _amazing_ scholarship, I have a lot of friends and I'm pretty decent at calligraphy, I'm still one hell of a wing spiker even after all this time, and I'm proudly bisexual and I'd be bisexual even if I wasn't fucking other people. I'm not just a slut.” He sighs, head thumping back against his headrest. “Whatever. I just... I don't like seeing Yahaba stuck there. He's like a more obnoxious Oikawa, and he needs to change his hair.”

Kuroo laughs, clearly catching that Yuuji wants to change the subject. “His hair?”

“He looks like a cinnamon roll in the worst kind of way, _ugh_. It's stupid and bouncy.”

Kuroo drops him off at his apartment in Chuo, and he throws together an overnight bag without much thought before slumping on the couch to indulge in mindless television. He has three hours before he ought to catch the train to Shinagawa, three hours to either stew in his own head and feel awful or watch something just entertaining enough to keep him from being self-destructive. He flips on Trigun, and spends the next three hours invested in nothing more than a world of dust and despair and slapstick comedy before taking a shower and cleaning up for Kyoutani.

It's a short train ride, and a shorter walk to Kyoutani's place. By the time he arrives at 7:18, Kyoutani is home and the lights are on. He knocks, and Kyoutani opens the door to usher him in. 

“Hey,” Yuuji says, giving him his best come-hither smile as Kyoutani shuts the door. 

Kyoutani gives him a long look. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Smiling when you don't actually want to.”

Yuuji's face goes slack with shock, and Kyoutani hums slightly in approval as he turns and walks into the little kitchen. Yuuji kicks off his shoes and follows, dropping his bag on the couch in the little living area. “What- How did you-”

“You're easy to read,” Kyoutani says, pulling on an apron. There's a veritable feast cooking in the kitchen, and Yuuji's mouth waters as he looks over everything. Kyoutani picks up a razor sharp knife and sets to chopping spring onions. “I wanted to get a few more ideas from you before we get started.”

Yuuji braces his arm on the counter, propping his chin in his hand. “Okay?”

“Obviously you're fine with restraints, gags, and toys in general,” Kyoutani says without a trace of embarrassment, “just going on how much you liked the other night, but I wanted to get a few more hard answers from you. What do you like best?”

“Why do you care?” Yuuji asks, curious. “I'm pretty much down with anything, doesn't it make more sense for us to go with what _you_ like?”

A muscle in Kyoutani's jaw twitches. “No.”

Alright then. That's... weird. And different from the norm. Most people _like_ that he's willing to do anything.

“Um,” Yuuji says, scrambling to come up with an answer. “I... like collars and leashes but not petplay?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Yuuji flushes. “Sorry.”

Kyoutani just gives him a look, apparently waiting for him to continue. 

“Uh. Sorry, this is... most people don't ask, really. Um. I like ropes. I like ropes a lot, actually. I don't like being left alone in them, though, I really hate that. I don't like dehumanization. I like breathplay if it's light. I like being overwhelmed, over stimulation is kinda great, delay and denial can be fun- do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes.”

Yuuji groans. “Ugh. Why?”

Kyoutani gives him a look of such displeasure that Yuuji feels like he's just been exfoliated with how rough it is. “Because you're trusting me with your body and mind, and I want to wreck you in the best kind of way possible.”

“Oh. Well. When you put it like that-”

Kyoutani gives him another look and Yuuji all but chokes on his tongue. He takes a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter. 

“So, I uh. I like giving head, I really like being bruised up so I have something the next day. I like being scratched- don't like knife play most of the time, but I can get into it if my partner is. I like begging. Clamps are fun, but I like real ones over clothespins. Clothespins do in a pinch but they're not the best.” He traces patterns absently on the tabletop. “Not big on needles or piercing play, there's a reason I only have my tongue and ears done. I don't like being called names. Humiliations not really my thing, but I can handle it if someone else really likes it. I haven't done anything with watersports but I don't think I want to. Corsets are right out unless they're on someone else- I broke a couple ribs a few years back so it hurts bad to wear them. Public sex is generically fine, I've got a bit of an exhibitionist streak, I like watching but I'd rather interact. Lingerie on anyone is great, heels are fun, but being actively feminized is a hard no.”

“Not something you have to worry about with me,” Kyoutani says dryly, grimacing. “Someone try that with you?”

“Yeah.” Not his favorite memory. “A while ago. Can I be done talking about myself?”

“Couple questions.”

Yuuji nods, drumming his fingers on the countertop. Thank god. Talking about what he likes is strange. Last time was so much easier- rough sex is rough sex, and things got out of hand in the best kind of way. This whole "planning" and "discussing" thing is weird.

“How do you feel about being fed?” Kyoutani asks. 

“...I've never had someone want to,” Yuuji admits, interested. “It sounds... nice.”

Kyoutani nods once. “Kneeling for long periods?”

“That's fine if I stretch before.”

“Blindfolds?”

“ _No_.”

Yuuji doesn't mean for it to come out so strong, but no. God, no. Not for anything to do with kink. He wants to be able to see. No surprises. He can handle anything, so long as he can see it coming.

Kyoutani nods again, as if this was what he expected to hear. “Alright.” He puts the onions into a pot with other boiling things, and puts the lid on top. The apron comes back off, getting hung neatly on a hook, and he walks around the counter to stand in front of Yuuji. Yuuji feels the tiniest hint of a blush start up as those intense eyes bore into him. 

“I need you to promise me something,” Kyoutani says after a moment. 

“Hmm?”

“Don't try and hide from me. Don't try and pretend like you're enjoying yourself if you're actually scared, or upset, or trying not to cry. I like it when your expressions are real. You don't have to work to please me,” Kyoutani says flatly, and Yuuji feels his cheeks heat up. God damn it, the asshole is _good_. “I liked what we had the other night. You're strong, you're smart, and you're about the farthest thing away from weak I can think of. And I'll keep treating you like that so long as you don't treat me like I need to be handled. We've got a different dynamic tonight- we can take our time. But don't try and second guess me or top from the bottom. I wear what I want on my sleeve, I expect the same from you.”

Yuuji licks his lips. “I'll do my best for you.”

“That'll have to do.” Kyoutani reaches out, lazily runs an outright possessive hand over his neck. Yuuji swallows hard. “Up. Let's get you ready while the food gets finished.”


	3. Break the Chains

“Rinse off once more while I get things out,” Kyoutani tells him, and because Yuuji is weak and his head is still a mess from their conversation, he does. Kyoutani's shower is nice, he has a number of honestly very high end soaps available, and Yuuji cleans himself up once more before stepping out and toweling off with one of the very nice towels Kyoutani has on the rack. Seriously, who on earth has towels this nice? What does Kyoutani even do for a living?

Once he's dry he leaves the bathroom, walking across the small hall to the bedroom. Now that he's looking for it, he sees the subtle trappings of high quality things- the bed is real wood and the sheets look like they're a high thread count, the dresser coordinates with the bed, and other things around the house had been of good quality as well. Kyoutani is waiting for him, leaning against the wall. He's changed into a white tank top and grey sweats, and Yuuji resolutely does not let his mouth water when he sees the thin line of skin between the two. He looks away, and finds that on the bed a number of collars and leashes have been set out. 

“Take your pick,” Kyoutani says, nodding at the bed.

Yuuji walks over, looking at them. It's a pretty decent selection. 

“Why do you have so many?” he asks, curious, as he runs his fingers over a posture collar covered in lace. 

“There was a sale,” Kyoutani says with a shrug. 

“So you bought eight different collars?”

“Ten, actually, but two of them are spoken for. I just haven't gotten them to their recipients yet and I don't think they'd fit you.” Kyoutani watches him dither over the collars and says, “There's no wrong answer.”

Yuuji jolts a little, and feels his cheeks heat up. “I didn't-”

“Shut up. I don't play mind games, Yuuji, it's your choice. You aren't going to upset me by picking one thing or the other. I put them all out because I don't care which ones you pick,” Kyoutani says flatly, and Yuuji nods slowly.

This is a nice change, but... still a weird one. 

There's fabric, leather, faux leather, and vinyl to pick from. He discards the fabric immediately- it's all brocades, pretty with no real other purpose aside from the posture collar. He discards the vinyl because he tends to sweat under it and not in a fun way. The faux leather collars are in cheerful colors except for one plain black one, but the leathers are sturdy. He selects one of those, hard on the outside with studs and a d-ring in the center, but with a buttery soft interior to protect his skin. Kyoutani makes no noise approving or disproving his choice, and he feels a bit relieved. The leashes are easier. He discards any of the chain ones, and picks up a very short, sturdy leash of leather that coordinates with the collar. It's heavy, but he takes a closer look at it in interest before noticing the stamping on it.

“...This isn't a knock off, is it,” he says blankly, staring down at the 'COACH' label on it. 

“Nope.”

“Fucking hell, what do you do for work?”

“Carpentry,” Kyoutani says. “It's amazing how much money people will pay you for custom cabinet doors in heirloom oak.”

Yuuji stares at him. “No shit. And this is what you spend it on?”

“It was that or get into stocks and I'm not about that life.”

“Fucking hell.” Yuuji looks back at the leash, and picks up the collar to examine it. It doesn't have a makers mark, at least. “Did you have this designed to compliment the leash? They match.”

“Nah, I got the leash after. It was cheaper.”

Yuuji just about screams, but gets himself under control. He picks up the collar as well, and looks to Kyoutani. Kyoutani nods, pushing off the wall, and takes the collar from him. 

“Safewords?”

“Red, yellow, green, just like before,” Yuuji says. “And I remember, nothing in you.”

“Good. Stretch out so that you'll be safe to kneel, and stretch your arms and shoulders out.”

Yuuji makes a face but cooperates, stretching as much as his body will let. Kyoutani keeps busy putting the other collars away, and makes a faint noise of approval when Yuuji stands back up. 

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Kyoutani motions for him to turn. Yuuji does, and shivers a little as the collar slips around his neck and Kyoutani buckles it in the back. The leather is soft to his throat and Kyoutani slips his fingers under to check how loose it is before making a pleased noise. 

“Up on the bed. Ropes next.”

Yuuji does as commanded, settling in the center and watching with interest as Kyoutani pulls rope out of a small box, cocking his head. There's a number of different thicknesses and colors, and Kyoutani considers a couple different ones before going with sturdy looking rope in black and another in cobalt blue. Yuuji sits up, waiting to see where this goes.

“Arms behind you,” Kyoutani says, sitting behind him. “Straight down. We're doing a dragonfly sleeve attached to a chest harness.”

Yuuji obediently puts his arms behind him, and shivers when Kyoutani runs his knuckles down the length of his spine. It's more reassuring than it has any right to be, and he feels himself settle as the black rope comes over his shoulders. It's almost soothing, and he finds himself drifting in comfortable ease as Kyoutani makes a simple chest harness for him, taut to his body but not digging in, and by the time his arms are covered in loops of black rope to keep them still, he finds that his head is blissfully quiet. Kyoutani leaves his hands free, and Yuuji sighs softly as strong hands check how tight his shoulders are. Thankfully, they're plenty loose. 

“There we go,” Kyoutani mutters, sounding pleased, and Yuuji's head lolls to the side a bit when Kyoutani runs a hand over his head. “Still with me?”

“Mmhmm,” Yuuji manages, eyes fluttering a little when Kyoutani's hand grips his hip. “You're... really good at this.”

“You're pretty easy to work with,” Kyoutani counters, and gets off the bed. The leash is hooked to the d-ring of the collar, and Yuuji does some careful squirming to get off of the bed and follow Kyoutani back to the kitchen. 

There's a cushion waiting by the table, and Kyoutani leads him to it. Yuuji goes to his knees without a fight, interested to see where this goes, and waits patiently while Kyoutani goes around the counter to pick up a plate and a pair of chopsticks. 

Dinner is apparently going to be chunks of beef teriyaki, and Yuuji's mouth waters at the scent of it. There's cooked vegetables as well, but he licks his lips as Kyoutani sits down on the chair next to him and looks down.

“Hungry?”

“Yes,” Yuuji says, eyes fixed on the plate. He hadn't realized just how hungry he really is, but the beef smells so _good_. 

Kyoutani picks up a piece with the chopsticks, turning it this way and that. Yuuji watches intently. 

“Do you feel you deserve dinner?” Kyoutani asks, looking at him. Yuuji blanches.

“I- I- Um-”

Kyoutani waits, face impassive, and Yuuji bites his lip. He wants the food. But at the same time... he can feel self hatred roiling under the surface. Seeing Yahaba, thinking about all those old and painful memories- he feels like he ought to be punished. It's something he's gotten used to, the hatred. The questions of what-if, what could have happened if he'd just _waited_ , if he hadn't been so greedy for Rintarou's kisses, if he'd just been a little more patient. 

_What if he'd just had the right words, then? What if he could have saved them?_

“Yes?” he guesses, not sure what Kyoutani wants, because Kyoutani's been waiting for a bit.

“Are you asking me or telling me, Yuuji?” Kyoutani asks, and Yuuji looks down at the floor.

“No,” Yuuji says quietly, feeling a bit of shame wash over him. “I don't feel like I deserve it.”

Kyoutani's fingers slide under his chin to tip his head up, and Yuuji goes without a fight. Kyoutani offers him the piece of beef, and Yuuji takes it with some relief while averting his eyes. 

“Why do you feel like you don't deserve it?” Kyoutani asks, stroking his cheek with one broad thumb. 

Yuuji chews and swallows, keeping his eyes averted. “I should be punished.”

“That's not what you're here for,” Kyoutani says, no trace of anger in his voice. It's simple, pure command- the control of someone born knowing in blood and bone that he's the one with the power. It's more reassuring than it has any right to be. “You're here to get out of your head. If you want me to punish you, we'll talk about it before, and we'll make it happen. I can make you suffer, if that's what you need. But right now, right here, this is about pleasure. Yours, and mine. The past can fuck off and die right now- we're here, in this moment. I don't play mind games, Yuuji. I want honesty out of you, nothing else.”

Yuuji shudders, the words washing over him with some relief. A bit of tension eases from his shoulders. Kyoutani simply wanted him to clarify his mental state, not tease him. 

Kyoutani fetches another piece of the beef, and runs his hand over Yuuji's hair. 

“Do you feel you deserve dinner?” he asks again.

“No,” Yuuji says honestly, looking up at him, “but I want to.”

Kyoutani actually smiles at that, and Yuuji basks in how it softens his face. 

“Good boy,” Kyoutani says, and feeds him. The beef is almost sweet on his tongue, and Yuuji savors every ounce of it. 

Kyoutani alternates between feeding him and feeding himself, and Yuuji feels himself sinking deeper and deeper with every morsel that Kyoutani gives him. It's a soft thing, a fragile thing, and he finds himself leaning into Kyoutani's leg. Kyoutani's hand cards through his hair a few times, soothing and grounding. 

When the food is gone and Yuuji is pleasantly full, he looks up in interest to see what's coming next. Kyoutani stands up, taking the leash and tugging a little. Yuuji carefully gets to his feet, following Kyoutani into the living room where there's another cushion on the floor by the couch, and Kyoutani sits down heavily on the couch. 

“Lap,” he says, and Yuuji practically falls into him as he tries to straddle him without use of his arms. Kyoutani doesn't seem to mind, smiling, and once Yuuji is comfortably perched there he absently runs his hands down his thighs. It's strange, being the only one undressed in this situation, but it's kind of a turn on. Kyoutani runs his hands over every inch of available skin except for his cock, stroking like he's some sort of fine porcelain he's inspecting for cracks. It's weirdly soothing and Yuuji feels oddly prized, as if he's some sort of expensive toy that Kyoutani's enjoying. 

“You're very pretty,” Kyoutani says after examining him, tweaking a nipple. Yuuji's cock jerks. “Ever thought about getting those done?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji admits, licking his lips. Kyoutani's dark eyes flick up to him, dark and heavy lidded. Fucking _hot_. “I dunno if I could handle the pain though. But I want to.”

“That's fair. They'd look good though,” Kyoutani says, and Yuuji inhales shakily as Kyoutani pulls off his own shirt and flicks it in the general direction of the chair. He's so very built, bulky and sturdy and thick with muscle that does more than look nice. “...Like what you see?”

“Fuck yeah I do.”

Kyoutani actually smiles at that, and Yuuji's heart does something that might be considered a lurch. 

“So,” he says, “here's what I'd like to do.”

Yuuji cocks his head, obediently paying attention.

“I'd like to make you cry again,” Kyoutani says, with the sort of nonchalance that suggests he might as well be talking about the weather. “It's good to help ease all the stress out of your system.”

“Will you fuck me again?”

“Sure.” Kyoutani smiles a little, rubbing a finger over his collar. “If you ask nice. And if I decide I want to.”

“You're killing me, Kyou.”

“Good.” Kyoutani grins at him, tugging the leash to unbalance him. Yuuji yelps, falling against his shoulder, and Kyoutani wraps a sturdy arm around him to hold him there. “And now, I'm going to relax and you are too.”

“I- what?”

Yuuji hears the television click on to what seems to be _The Joy of Painting_ , and stares blankly at the back wall. 

“Are... are you just going to hold me while watching Bob Ross paint?”

Kyoutani's hand finds his hair, thick fingers absently scratching through it, and Yuuji practically melts against his shoulder. “That's right.”

“But...”

Kyoutani tugs at his hair, sharp. Yuuji's hips jerk helplessly. “But what?”

Yuuji considers the situation and decides not to press his luck. Kyoutani's been in a good and easygoing mood the entire evening, and he's sure that if Kyoutani wanted he'd be so much sexed-out puddle on the floor. Kyoutani does what he wants, when he wants, and he's in charge. If he's acting like this there's definitely a reason. Yuuji isn't one much inclined to trust, but... Kyoutani's been worth investing that trust, so far. He's been kind. Gentle, even.

It might be nice to trust someone. 

Yuuji suddenly realizes that Kyoutani's waiting for him as he works through these thoughts. 

“Um. Nothing. Never mind.”

“Alright.” Kyoutani lightly knocks their heads together, reassuring, and scratches through his hair again. Yuuji relaxes, curling up into him, and presses his face against Kyoutani's neck.

It's not the most comfortable position, but it's no bad thing to be held by sturdy arms while a soft voice speaks about trees in the background. Kyoutani's watching it in the original English, and Yuuji wonders if he speaks it well or if this is practice. Perhaps it doesn't matter, because the mans voice is soft and soothing in the best kind of way, and he finds some of his stress melting away.

He wonders if Kyoutani ever did this with Yahaba. If Yahaba was ever the one tied up and bound in his lap, pretty and obedient. Yahaba is lovely and androgynous, with his pretty eyes and stupid hair, and he probably looks especially nice in rope. Or maybe Kyoutani found out about this particular kink after he and Yahaba parted ways. Does he regret not getting a chance to experience him like this? Yuuji would regret it. He regrets a lot of things. 

He regrets not spending more time caring for Rin-chan, for one thing-

“Your head's pretty noisy, there,” Kyoutani rumbles, and Yuuji jolts. “I can hear you thinking from here.”

“I- um-”

“Is it Yahaba?”

Yuuji flushes. Goddamn Kyoutani Kentarou and his insight. “Sort of.”

“He topped.”

Yuuji squeaks, pulling back as best he can while Kyoutani laughs. 

“Relax,” Kyoutani says, still grinning like it's all a joke. “He's not gonna care if I talk about it. Shigeru might look like some fussy little brat, but he's a Dom through and through. It's that setter bit of him that likes to have full control, y'know. Part of why it didn't work out for us in the long run, because I hate bottoming and so does he. I can switch, but I'm not the biggest fan of it. And I don't do it out of a committed relationship.”

Yuuji's face feels like it's on fire. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because you seem like the kind that compares themself to others. And I don't want you to do that. We've got a completely different dynamic,” Kyoutani says, helping Yuuji sit back up properly so they could look each other in the eyes. “I told you and I'll keep telling you until you believe it. You don't have to be anything but yourself here. It's just us here. No ghosts from the past, no skeletons in the closet that aren't tightly locked up. Just you and me.”

Yuuji looks to the side so he doesn't have to see Kyoutani's face when he mumbles, “What if my skeletons get out?”

“We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. I've got torches and shit for Molotov cocktails in the closet.”

That startles a laugh out of him, and Kyoutani pulls him in for a slow, easy kiss. Yuuji sighs into his mouth, shoulders lowering as they relax again.

“There we go,” Kyoutani murmurs, pleased. “Good boy. I like it when you loosen up. Don't want stress lines on that pretty face of yours.”

Yuuji goes red again, flustered and pleased, and squeaks. 

Kyoutani grins, kissing him again and nipping at his lip. “God, you're cute.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Yuuji complains, face hot.

“That's not your safeword,” Kyoutani counters, grinning wickedly, and Yuuji sticks his tongue out at him. Kyoutani laughs, big and easy, and Yuuji's heart lurches in his chest. 

Sex has never been a thing to really... enjoy. Sex is fun, sure, with lots of interesting and diverting things, but well. It's something that scratches an itch and makes him feel good. He likes the high of it, but he doesn't revel in it. He's never enjoyed the lead up quite this much. There's never been this kind of easy banter, the joking and casual flirting, the smiling and teasing and knowledge that good things are coming. 

_Oh, I'm so fucked_.

Kyoutani pulls him back in, kissing his cheek before settling him against his shoulder. Yuuji nestles down, heart feeling a lighter, and closes his eyes as Bob Ross talks about mountains and lakes. He breathes easier, the chest harness grounding rather than restrictive, and when the episode ends Kyoutani makes a pleased noise. 

“Up you get,” he says, and helps Yuuji to his feet. Yuuji sways a little where he stands, and tips his head up just enough to beg for a kiss. Kyoutani gives him a small smile, tugging on the leash, and leads him back to the bedroom. Yuuji's urged up on the bed, where he kneels patiently and watches as Kyoutani pulls a box from the closet and sets it on the bed. His pants are stripped off next, and Yuuji makes a strangled noise when he sees just how sturdy Kyoutani's thighs are again. Navy boxer-briefs cling to a nigh unto perfect ass, and Yuuji is only human.

“Subtle,” Kyoutani says dryly.

“You're hot and I'm shameless,” Yuuji counters, echoing the words from before, and Kyoutani chuckles, leaning over to tug on the leash to unbalance him. Yuuji yelps, falling over, and pouts at him until Kyoutani pulls him back upright with one hand. Yuuji watches the bulge of his bicep and thanks every god he can think of.

“Such a little brat,” Kyoutani says, but it sounds almost fond, and Yuuji basks under the attention. Kyoutani ditches his underwear, flicking them into a laundry basket, and opens up the box on the bed. 

He hums as he looks through the box, and Yuuji cranes his neck to see. “What's that?”

“Dicks.”

“...What?”

Kyoutani tips the box so that he can see, in individual slots, several dildos meant to fit within a harness. “Dicks.”

“Ohhhh!” Yuuji eagerly scoots over to get a better look. “That's useful. Getting to switch out what kind of dick you have must make life interesting. Which one did you use last time?”

Kyoutani hides a smile poorly, pointing out one with a fairly standard shape and size, flesh toned. “That one.”

“Can we use that purple one?” The purple one is an absolute monster, eye watering neon with ridges and a hefty diameter. Kyoutani considers it, picking it up for a minute. 

“Later,” he decides, setting it on the bedside table. Yuuji eyes it with no small amount of interest, and tears his eyes away to look back at the box. “We'll start with something smaller, for now. Do you like things textured or smooth?”

“I'm easy,” Yuuji says, peering into the box. “The black one looks promising.”

Kyoutani takes it from its section, hefting it. It's plain matte black, ultra minimal and sleek in design, and not all that much smaller than the purple one in girth and length. Kyoutani gives him a bit of side eye.

“What?” Yuuji asks, faux-indignant.

“You're a fucking size queen.”

“ _Hell_ yeah.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes, sighing. “Of course you would be.” He sets it off to the side with the purple monster, and Yuuji watches with interest as he pulls out a harness with convoluted straps, not the same one he'd used before. “So. You don't really like Shigeru.”

That's an abrupt change in topic. 

“Not hugely,” Yuuji says, a little subdued. “He's... he's not a bad guy, but he's part of some really shitty memories.”

“Volleyball?”

“Yeah.”

Kyoutani finishes up with the straps, fishes something out of the box and slips it inside the complicated mesh of it all. “If it makes you feel better, he's just as much of a little shit to literally everybody I bring home. No one's ever good enough for me in his eyes, not even him.”

“That's a bit fucked up,” Yuuji says, watching as Kyoutani picks up the black one and does some maneuvering so that it's within the ring. “I don't hate him. I just. I dunno how to really feel about him.”

“I know how that goes.” Kyoutani's apparently decided he's content with how he's adjusted, and takes a moment to look Yuuji over. “Hmm.”

“What?” Yuuji asks, curious. 

“Trying to decide how much further effort I want to put into fucking you,” Kyoutani says absently, cocking his head to the side. “Should've worked you open earlier and stuck a plug in you.”

“Damn,” Yuuji mutters, eyebrows furrowing. “ _I_ should have done that.”

Kyoutani shrugs. “We can play with that idea later. I've got a few ideas for what I want to do to you, but I need to open you up first. Shift back a little, I need to get the comforter out of the way and put down towels.”

“What, really?”

Kyoutani gives him a side eye. “These are 1700 thread count sheets, you brat, I'm not wrecking them yet.”

“Oh damn,” Yuuji grins, “do I get to wreck them later?”

“If you ask nice and I find a set I like just as much.”

“Nice.”

The comforter is moved, old towels are thrown down, and Yuuji finds himself flushed red and literally biting a pillow in very short order as thick, sturdy fingers work him open. Kyoutani is good with his hands, as Yuuji already knows, but he's taking his time stretching him out. Yuuji's legs are spread wide, arms still trapped behind him, and if he starts getting restless Kyoutani yanks at the leash to get him to settle down. 

He likes the feeling of being _full_ , likes the faint calluses on Kyoutani's free hand catching on the soft skin of his thigh when he pauses to press a kiss to his back and let him catch his breath. He likes the overwhelming scent of _man_ that lingers on Kyoutani's sheets, heady as perfume, clean sweat and Kyoutani's own musk and shampoo mixing to create something that reaches into the back of his mind, ruffles through all the little levers, and pulls on the ones that mean “safety” and “arousal”. He likes the way that Kyoutani hums in occasional approval, the soft tone as he arches his back letting him know a bit of approval. And he very, very much likes how Kyoutani's oh so slowly turning him into a melted puddle of want. 

“What'd'you think,” Kyoutani says, as if this was a conversation set up he regularly indulged in. “Think you could come on just my fingers?”

“Fuuuck,” Yuuji responds, when he turns his head to stop trying to rip up the pillow with his teeth. “Probably- oh, _shit_ , do that again.”

Kyoutani doesn't, and Yuuji groans. 

“Let's find out,” Kyoutani says, as if he hadn't spoken, and Yuuji whimpers when his fingers press down hard inside him and stars burst behind his eyes. 

“Ohgodplease-”

“Kyou's fine,” Kyoutani says, because he's a little shit. “Damn, you look good like this. I could get used to a view like this.”

Yuuji's mind flashes to past work and lets it go. “Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Fuck photography, I want this shit done in oils and hung over a fucking fireplace,” Kyoutani growls, curling his fingers so hard and fast that Yuuji _wails_. “You're too fucking pretty in rope and leather.” He eases up his fingers and Yuuji pants, the collar heavy on his neck in the best kind of way. Two fingers is usually plenty for him, but Kyoutani is using three and seems in no hurry to stop working him open. 

Just when he thinks it's Kyoutani's goal to get him off with just his fingers, they pull out and away, leaving him feeling open and exposed. 

Yuuji whines despite himself, and Kyoutani chuckles.

“You're such a needy little brat,” he says, but it sounds fond, and Yuuji shivers happily when Kyoutani presses a kiss to the back of his head. “I like it.”

“Thank you- aw _fuck, holy shit-_ ”

Kyoutani laughs, breathless. “That shut you up?”

Yuuji whines as Kyoutani presses into him, the weight heavy and so utterly _thick_ that his jaw drops open to struggle for breath at the inexorable press into him. Yuuji is relatively certain he's underestimated just how massive the matte black dildo was, and his body seems to agree that he has, in fact, made a very fun but ill informed decision. A string of nonsense falls out of his mouth, and Kyoutani pauses. 

“I'm halfway in,” he says, sounding very amused. “Eyes bigger than your ass, Yuuji?”

“Fuck you,” Yuuji gasps, and Kyoutani laughs.

“Nah, sweetheart, I'm fucking _you_ ,” he says, and presses forward again. Yuuji groans, seeing stars behind his eyes. 

“ _Kyou_ ,” he gasps out. “ _Kyou,_ please, fuck, faster-”

“Not a chance.”

“I like it rough,” Yuuji says, and Kyoutani's hand wraps around the back of his neck and squeezes.

“I know you do. But that's not what we're doing tonight.”

Yuuji squirms, groaning, and Kyoutani shoves him down harder. “ _Please_.”

“Not your decision,” Kyoutani says, growling into his ear as his cock presses into him so slow Yuuji can't help the little wail of desire that escapes with the sheer pressure of it all. Kyoutani presses him down again, holding him there, and rocks his hips so slow it's practically agony until he's buried to the hilt and draped over Yuuji's back. Yuuji whines, helpless and so turned on it's painful. He feels _full_ in the best kind of way. Kyoutani presses lazy kisses to his hair as he slowly pulls back and then presses in again, over and over, and by the fifth time Yuuji's relatively certain he's drooling but can't really tell if he's a human being anymore because Kyoutani won't stop nailing his prostate with every fucking drag of his cock.

“You know what the best part about this is?” Kyoutani asks, and Yuuji can _hear_ the grin in his voice. “I can do this as long as I like, if I'm careful about it. Juuust the right amount of stimulation to keep me turned on but not getting off.”

“Oh, you bastard,” Yuuji gasps, arms jerking in their restraints. “That's just _mean_.”

“Hell yeah it is.”

Yuuji whines, and Kyoutani huffs out a laugh as he pulls back almost completely out before pushing in again with a glacial pace. Yuuji's hands spasm as he moans, eyes rolling back in his head, and his hips jerk helplessly as Kyoutani settles at the hilt again. 

“Are- are you going to tease me like this for the rest of my life?” Yuuji asks, his breathing ragged. 

“If I want,” Kyoutani tells him, sounding a little amused. “You're at my mercy, here.”

“Kyou, _please_ -”

“I dunno where you got the idea that begging would mean any kind of mercy from me,” Kyoutani says, and Yuuji whines as Kyoutani bites the bare skin of his shoulder. 

“You told me to ask nice,” Yuuji says, with a bit of a laugh, and Kyoutani smiles against his shoulder. 

The laugh turns into a moan when Kyoutani wraps a hand around him and gives a few slow strokes in tandem with fucking him, and Yuuji's moan gets buried as he bites the damn pillow again. He's half convinced he's going to rip it, with how his teeth are grinding on it. 

“Oh, that shut you up,” Kyoutani says, his voice low and hot against his skin. “Fuck, you're fun to mess with.”

Yuuji whines, squirming back against him, and Kyoutani grabs his hip to hold him still. His hands are big and callused, a wonderful texture and sensation, and Yuuji whimpers again as Kyoutani buries himself to the hilt once again and _pauses_ , taking a moment to just stroke him and feel him over. He lets go of the pillow and whimpers.

“Dunno if I've told you this,” Yuuji gasps, hips jerking when Kyoutani does something with his fingernails, “But I really fucking love your hands.”

“Oh?”

“Oh- _fuck_ , yeah, I love them,” Yuuji manages to spit out, whimpering as the hand on his hip tightens. “Y-you're really sturdy.”

“If you're still talking I'm clearly not doing my job right,” Kyoutani says, but he sounds pleased. Yuuji bites the pillow again as Kyoutani rubs his thumb over the head of his cock once, then twice. “That's more like it.”

Yuuji's head is spinning, and he can't quite seem to catch a rhythm between the hand around him and the cock in him. He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as Kyoutani squeezes him just-shy of pain territory and sends lights spinning through his head. His hips jerk, wanting and needy, and Kyoutani chuckles as he puts in a bit more effort. Yuuji's body feels like it has lightning crawling over it, Kyoutani's weight reassuring and heavy against him. He feels safe- wanted. Secure. And it's absolutely fantastic. 

He thinks he's finally found the rhythm when Kyoutani bends over, kissing the back of his neck above the collar. 

“Ready?”

“Wha-”

He has exactly no idea what the hell Kyoutani does, aside from the fact that his hand twists and his hips grind down hard, and Yuuji finds himself shrieking as he comes. Lights dance behind his eyes and he shudders through it, dazed and delighted and rocked to his core. 

When he comes back to himself, he manages a brief, “Holy _shit_.”

“Like that?” Kyoutani asks, pleased with himself. 

“ _Yes_ ,” and that was supposed to be a statement but it turns into a moan halfway through.

“Good, because I'm not pulling out until I get another out of you.”

He's still catching his breath when Kyoutani moves again, lazily rocking into him. He's so tender and oversensitive that it feels like there's tiny fireworks popping in his head, and while he knows that's the point it's just a bit too much.

“Yellow,” Yuuji gasps out, breathing ragged. “Yellow, fuck.”

Kyoutani goes still, one hand on his back. “Too much? What do you need?”

“Just-just a second.” He huffs out a breath, nerves no longer feeling as though they've been flayed. “Fuck, just- just too much for a bit. Give me a second.”

Kyoutani rubs his back under the rope, soothing and sturdy, and his hand feels like warm iron. Yuuji leans into it, as if it's the only thing tethering him to the real world. It certainly doesn't _feel_ like there's anything else in the world right now but them, and the comfortable bed.

“Green,” he says after a few more breaths, and groans as Kyoutani moves once more. He feels like he's falling to pieces, undone and overexposed, and Kyoutani presses a hand to the center of his back to hold him still as he moves his hips with lazy ease.

Yuuji's mind never truly goes silent, calculations and thoughts eternally whirring past him even as he rests, but this... this is different. His mind isn't so much emptied as filled, so utterly full of attention being paid to how his lungs are sucking in air, how his hands keep clenching and unclenching, how the bottoms of his feet are tingling, how his stomach is taut with desire and his cock barely hard but he feels on the verge of coming again. He feels utterly surrounded by _everything_ , and chokes on nothing while tears leak from his eyes at just how _much_ it is. He's never been quite so intimately aware of the balancing act between pain and pleasure, the knife's edge of it teetering back and forth while he lets out a sob of what might be want and might be overwhelmed exposure. 

It sneaks up on him, building low and then suddenly upon him, and he wails as he comes again, thrashing in Kyoutani's grip as bliss and agony war and bliss wins out. 

He collapses, legs giving out, and Kyoutani slides out of him as he pants for breath, and he's vaguely aware of soft kisses to his hair and praise being heaped on him. He feels rung out in the best sort of way, catching his breath as his ears ring, and turns his head so Kyoutani can kiss him. It's a messy, sloppy sort of kiss, neither of them able to line up well, but it's wonderful. 

“Good boy,” Kyoutani says in his gravelly voice, and Yuuji smiles at him, still breathless.

“Do-don't think I've ever come that fast a second time,” Yuuji tells him, when his head's stopped spinning and he can breath again.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Kyoutani murmurs, kissing over his cheek and neck again. “We aren't done yet.”

“We're not?”

“Nope.” Kyoutani grins at him, just a little bit mean in a way that makes Yuuji's stomach swoop with desire. “You wanted the purple one too, didn't you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuji murmurs, and Kyoutani kisses him again before slipping off the bed and lifting him bodily. Yuuji yelps, smart enough not to struggle. Kyoutani deposits him on the floor, a few quick buckles coming undone and the harness getting tossed to the other side of the room. His true cock isn't unfamiliar in look to Yuuji, and he licks his lips as he sways. 

“Can I suck you?” he asks, his voice ragged. “Can I?”

Kyoutani's eyebrows shoot up. “You want to?”

“Please,” Yuuji begs, nuzzling against his thigh. “Please, please? Please, I want to.”

Kyoutani's face does something odd, too fast for Yuuji to piece it together with how his head is flying apart at the seams, but he steps forward and wraps the leash around his hand. Yuuji leans forward, thrilled at being just the right height, and takes him in his mouth. He's sucked all kinds of cock in his time in Tokyo, Kyoutani barely rates on the scale of interesting shit that he's seen. Kyoutani growls as he works him over with his tongue, eyes closing in pleasure.

Yuuji's had plenty of compliments on his tongue, and the metal on it, and he uses that to his advantage. He loses himself in the soft, heady heat, Kyoutani's scent heady and inviting. The sounds he makes are plenty encouraging as well, and Yuuji redoubles his efforts and gets the leash tugged tighter for his troubles. He _loves_ this.

Kyoutani drags on the leash, practically grinding against Yuuji's mouth as he comes with a snarl, and Yuuji is so overwhelmed by the scent and heat of it all he whines against the pull and leans hard against Kyoutani's legs. Once Kyoutani's done, he lets the leash go loose and steps back. Yuuji looks up at him, fully aware that he's half hard again and so sunk down into subspace that Kyoutani could ask him for anything and he'd do it. 

“Fuck,” Kyoutani gasps out, breathing ragged. “You're good with your mouth.”

Yuuji smiles up at him, delighted, and leans into the hand that cups his head. He practically purrs, turning to nuzzle into it, and Kyoutani strokes his cheek with one wide thumb. 

“You're too pretty with your face a mess and that smile,” Kyoutani murmurs. “Look at you, you're being so good for me. One more time, and then you're done.”

“Can't,” Yuuji mumbles.

“Can,” Kyoutani retorts, stepping away and grabbing the purple dildo from the table and setting it down onto the floor. “You're going to ride that until you come one more time for me.”

Yuuji whines, uncertain, but Kyoutani's expression brooks no argument. Kyoutani bends, kissing his forehead, and Yuuji melts a little. 

“You gonna be good for me?” Kyoutani asks, and Yuuji immediately nods. “That's what I like to see. Good boy.”

Kyoutani helps him into place, knocking his legs wider so that he's spread out and on display. Yuuji whimpers as he feels the first touch of the tip of it. It's practically a cylinder, enormously thick, and he's _definitely_ going to be walking funny tomorrow. Kyoutani kneels behind him, turning the collar so he can pull the leash from behind. 

“I gave you a bit of a rest, so let's see how you handle this,” he says, leaning in to kiss Yuuji's shoulder where the ropes don't cover. “C'mon. Down.”

A bit of a rest turns out to mean nothing at all, and Yuuji feels the his breath's been punched out of him as he sinks down. It's just so _much_ , and he lets out a helpless little whine of desperation as Kyoutani gently tugs on the leash. He makes it halfway and has to stop, gasping for breath. Once again, the damn thing is so much bigger than it looks, and he feels like he's being split in two in the best kind of way. 

He sinks further and wails as it hits his prostate, tender and swollen from attention, and whimpers as he keeps sliding down and the ridges keep up the pressure on it. 

“There you go,” Kyoutani murmurs in his ear as Yuuji all but sobs, a few tears escaping from just how overwhelmed he is. “That's it, bear down for me, good boy.”

Yuuji lets out a weak, helpless noise, off balance and his head spinning, and shudders with desire as Kyoutani's fingers trail over his skin. They feel like brands, fire licking over tender skin. “Please- please no-”

“That's not your safeword.”

Yuuji positively wails as he sinks the last few centimeters, breath ragged and tears on his cheeks. The ridges feel just as amazing as he anticipated, lighting his mind and body up like a solar flare.

“Shit, Yuuji, look at you,” Kyoutani breathes, wrapping his arms around him and pressing kisses over his cheek and available skin. “Trusting me like this, you're so good sweetheart. Give me one more? One more and then you'll be done, I promise.”

“I can't,” Yuuji pants, head tipping back to rest on Kyoutani's shoulder. “I can't, I can't-”

“Yes you can,” Kyoutani murmurs, “because you're so good for me, I know you can.”

“P-please,” Yuuji's breath hitches, “I don't-”

“Don't what, sweetheart?”

“Don't deserve it,” Yuuji stammers out, the words falling out of his mouth without permission, squeezing his eyes shut as Kyoutani takes his cock in his hand. The sensation is so _much_ , too much.

“Fuck,” Kyoutani says, his voice rough, “you deserve all good things, Yuuji.”

His whole body feels like a live wire, stripped down and shorting with electricity, and his head is hazy and empty and full all at once. Everything in the world is boiled down to the hand on his hip, how _full_ he feels, and the so-gentle fingers stroking along him and setting him on fire. He can faintly tell that he's babbling, crying from just how _much_ it all is, and he rocks back. It feels like flames boil up his back, and his mouth opens in a soundless scream as he comes dry one last time. 

Yuuji's breath is coming in desperate, ragged pants, and he all but falls into Kyoutani's lap. Strong hands began plucking the rope free, slipping the dildo from him as gently as possible, and Yuuji shudders as his arms come loose. The chest harness stays on. 

“Thank you,” he says, when his mind is capable of speech again, and his hands scramble over Kyoutani's sturdy legs. “Thank you- please, can I-”

Kyoutani pulls him up so he's actually on his lap, and lets Yuuji cling to him like a limpet. Yuuji feels as if he's been wrung out and left in the wind, as though the hollow in his chest has been scoured clean and left sore and red. 

“Feeling better?” Kyoutani murmurs, and Yuuji nods against him. He feels renewed, whole and sane again. “Good boy.”

“Thank you,” Yuuji says again, feeling the remains of tear tracks crackling on his face. 

“You're welcome,” Kyoutani says, with a huffed laugh. He stands up, easily hoisting Yuuji, and deposits him on the bed. Yuuji sprawls there, knowing what kind of a scene he must make- fucked out, rope marks on his arms, color high on his cheeks and the leash draping down over the chest harness. Kyoutani smiles a little, looking a bit smug. Yuuji blinks up at him, sleepy, and reaches out helplessly.

“Please,” he says, not even knowing what he's asking for.

Kyoutani climbs into bed with him, and Yuuji curls up against him as Kyoutani pulls the blankets over them.

“You haven't-”

Kyoutani grins, looking a little touched, and kisses his forehead. 

“Testosterone's a hell of a drug,” Kyoutani tells him. “I got off about the same time you did. Don't worry, my orgasms just look different from most peoples.”

Yuuji relaxes, nuzzling against him and pulling him in close. Kyoutani huffs a laugh, settling so that he can hold Yuuji tight to his chest.

“We're going to be nasty in the morning,” he says quietly. 

“Don't leave me yet,” Yuuji mumbles into Kyoutani's neck, wrapping his arms around his sturdy torso.

“Alright. I won't.”

Sleep grabs him and drags him down, and his mind feels safer and calmer than it has in months.

oOo

Yuuji wakes up first again, the house quiet and Kyoutani a sturdy and reassuring bulk beside him. He's been cleaned off, the chest harness has been removed along with the collar. He reaches for his phone and finds it plugged in again next to the collar sitting on the bedside table, and smiles a little. Kyoutani is sweet, under all that gruff. The phone tells him that it's about 9 in the morning, that the weather is supposed to be sunny again, and that twitter has lost its shit over an idol group member leaving. There's one new message from Kuroo.

 **Text from: Fukuko's Dad**  
I just realized that i'd met yahaba before  
holy shit i'm forgetful  
we only met once though like four years ago so that's fine  
woops

Yuuji makes a face. Incredible. He locks his phone again and rolls over, curling up closer to Kyoutani. He's pleasantly sore, as if from a long workout, and his muscles are loose for once. Kyoutani's phone buzzes on the other bedside table, the familiar rhythm of someone calling.

Without even looking, Kyoutani's hand snakes out from under the covers and grabs it, pulling it to his ear.

“Kyoutani,” he rasps, rolling onto his back and pulling Yuuji in to rest against his chest. Yuuji goes willingly, curling up against him and throwing a leg over him. He can faintly hear a tinny voice from the phone. Kyoutani listens for a moment before growling. “No, don't come in today. It's a Sunday, I'm not leaving the house. No, Hanataro, I don't _care_ , it can wait until Monday.”

Yuuji nuzzles up against his jaw, and Kyoutani's arm tightens around him. 

“Kenjiro can wait an extra day for a fucking cupboard door. Go back to bed, and if you go to work and try to do it yourself I swear I'll fire your ass.” 

Yuuji smiles. It sounds threatening, but he's certain it's an empty threat. 

“Yeah. Don't call me again. I'm going back to bed.” Kyoutani hangs up and puts the phone back on the bedside table, sighing.

“Having fun with your employees?” Yuuji teases, absently running his fingers through the slight hair on Kyoutani's chest. It's so very soft, fine and only softly curled.

“Hanataro's a pain,” Kyoutani mutters, nuzzling against him. “He thinks he's gods gift to woodworking, I have to keep knocking sense into him. He's decent but he's cocky as hell. Reminds me of me in all the worst kind of ways. Just because I run a shop and I'm this young he thinks he can walk all over me and I have to remind him he can't.” 

Yuuji all but purrs as Kyoutani absently runs one broad hand down his side. Kyoutani sighs a little, sinking back into the bed, and Yuuji settles back down. He's sure his energy will spike back up in a bit, but for now it's nice to be flopped out together to rest. Amazing enough, he doesn't feel nearly as sore as he expected.

“How was yesterday for you?” Kyoutani asks, and Yuuji smiles against the soft skin of his neck.

“Perfect,” he says, stretching a little and yawning as he flops his limbs over Kyoutani's. “You're really good at that.”

“Eh, we just matched up well,” Kyoutani mutters, resting his cheek on Yuuji's head. “I don't usually have such a good time.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah.” Kyoutani's hand settles at his waist, absently petting the faint ridges of muscle Yuuji's developed. Keeping up with the Bokuto-Akaashi-Kuroo-Kozume's was a pain, but it gave him some very nice abs and incredible stamina. “I don't meet a lot of people who meet me at my level. Or who share as many kinks.”

Yuuji grins at that. “Happy to help.”

Kyoutani snorts, rolling over to kiss him slow and heated. Yuuji sighs into his mouth, practically melting into him. 

“ _Kyou_ ,” he breathes as Kyoutani's hands slide down him. “Kyou-”

“Shhh.”

Yuuji tips his head up in bliss as Kyoutani presses kisses over the soft skin of his neck and his hand wraps around his cock. 

“You're so damn pretty,” Kyoutani murmurs as Yuuji shivers. “You've been so good for me. Didn't try and fight me, just rolled with it. Look at you- fuck, you're so good. You're so strong.” 

“Kyou-” Yuuji whimpers, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“You were so good,” Kyoutani continues, kissing him once again, and Yuuji whines against his mouth. “Not a single complaint, you took everything I gave you and you were so sweet, so good for me.”

Yuuji doesn't know that he's ever come so hard as he does with Kyoutani's hand on his cock and whispered endearments in his ears.

Kyoutani showers with him, exchanging slow kisses under the hot water, and Yuuji basks in the attention. The attention carries out to the kitchen, Kyoutani cooking breakfast once again and pausing here and there to reel Yuuji in to make out with him against the counter. Yuuji's never felt quite so thoroughly seduced as he does when Kyoutani fists his hands in Yuuji's hair to hold him still while he marks up his neck with sharp teeth. 

Once Yuuji's sufficiently breathless, Kyoutani pushes him away to go sit at the table, and Yuuji brightens when he sees that the food is bite sized. Kyoutani sets two different plates down, but Yuuji licks his lips and slips down to his knees next to Kyoutani's chair.

Kyoutani goes still, inhaling sharply and his eyes darkening.

Yuuji looks up at him, putting his hands behind his back and licking his lips as his cheeks heat up.

Kyoutani reaches out, gently stoking over his cheek with his thumb. “You're sure?” he asks, no trace of judgment.

“Please,” Yuuji says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I want...”

He's not sure what he wants, honestly. But he shuffles closer so that he can rest his chin on Kyoutani's leg, looking up at him. Kyoutani takes a shuddering breath, running his hand through Yuuji's hair roughly, and picks up the first piece of the tomago roll. 

Yuuji eats everything given to him, his head wonderfully quiet, and when they're finished Kyoutani pulls him up to pin him to the wall and kiss him til he's breathless once again.

It's almost 11 before Yuuji finally leaves, catching the train and smiling the whole way back to Chuo Ward. Yuuji gets back to his apartment and waves to his roommates in the front room as he walks in. They wave back, both engrossed in an argument, and he heads to his room. It's small and cramped, but spotlessly clean. He doesn't keep much in the way of belongings these days- he could pack everything he owns in the back of Kuroo's little Honda and probably have room to spare. He tosses his clothes into his laundry hamper, opening up his laptop and setting it on the desk in its designated space next to his beast of a desktop to work on a project he's been tentatively coding. 

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out, opening the message.

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
So. praise kink and feeding huh.

Yuuji blushes.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
Is it a problem?

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
You know damn well it's not  
just  
treat yourself kind okay

Yuuji frowns, confused.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
???  
huh?

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
You push yourself hard  
I appreciate it, don't get me wrong  
but be gentle with yourself.  
Don't want you going into drop when I can't help 

_Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
Yes sir~

 **Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
(¬_¬ ) 

Yuuji grins at the kaomoji, pleasantly surprised. Kyoutani's never used them before.

 _Text to: Best Lay Ever_  
i'll be good!! Promise 

**Text from: Best Lay Ever**  
Good boy.

Yuuji's face goes bright red and he throws his phone onto the bed with an embarrassed squeak. Fucking Kyoutani Kentarou. He sits down at the desk and pulls open the programs he needs, and wakes up the desktop. He pulls open discord, shooting a quick message to Kenma to let him know he's alive, and checks his email. There's two from his classmates in that godawful physics design class, one from Bobata's mom reminding him he's invited to their family reunion in two months since their family basically adopted him following his disownment, and another short term job offer from a company he's worked with before. He accepts it and refuses to think about what Kyoutani would think if he knew that Yuuji does video editing for porn companies. But it pays well enough to keep him clothed, housed, and fed- and he doesn't have to be the one on camera, these days. He'd done a fair bit of sex work in Sendai, something he prays never comes back to bite him, but it was just a job then and it's just a job now.

He gets a good quarter through the project he's working on before his phone buzzes again. Yuuji gets up and picks it up, opening the message without thinking.

 **Text from: XXX-XXXX-XXXX**  
Hey, this is Numajiri Rintarou. Just wanted to check in with you, see if you're okay.

He sits down hard at his desk, and buries his face in his hands. His eyes feel hot and itchy suddenly.

“Fuck,” Yuuji whispers. “ _Fuck_.”


	4. Kiss Me Like Real People Do

He's sitting at lunch with Kenma when his phone dings.

 **Text from: Bobaeta**  
Yuu I haven't heard from you in a week  
the fuck is going on  
talk to me you little shit  
I can see when you read these you know

Yuuji shoves his phone back in his pocket and stabs the cake on his plate. It's a pleasant afternoon and the weather is warm enough that sitting outside is comfortable, and they're in a nicely secluded corner. Kenma's eyes flick to him from his game, eyebrow raising slightly. 

“It's nothing,” Yuuji mutters.

“Doesn't look like nothing.”

Yuuji makes a face at him, and shoves the cake in his mouth. “Just Bobata.”

Kenma doesn't look away, his eyes focusing just to the side of Yuuji's face. “So... Just your best friend, who you're not texting back?”

“Yeah.” He stabs the cake again. “I'm not ready to talk to him.”

Kenma looks back to his game, fingers twitching over the buttons. “Alright.”

Yuuji looks over at him, but Kenma seems engrossed in his game. He sighs. “You think I should talk to him.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You don't have to, Matcha, I can see you judging me.”

Kenma's eyes flick back over to him, his face deeply unimpressed. Yuuji jerks back a little. It's not that Kenma's unimpressed- he's _angry_. “I don't judge you, Yuuji, I never do. Don't put words in my mouth. I don't like that you've been isolating yourself but I can't stop you. It's your decision.”

Yuuji looks back at the table. “Sorry,” he says quietly, and Kenma sighs, deflating.

“You've been off for the past week. I'm worried.”

“I'm okay,” Yuuji tells him, looking back up. “Just working through some things.” The cake suddenly seems unappetizing, and he sets his fork down. Kenma puts his game down, and Yuuji sighs as Kenma turns his full attention on him, patiently waiting. “My ex texted me. The one from high school.”

Kenma nods, listening attentively.

“I haven't talked to him since we broke up. It was a really, really ugly break up. I did a lot of begging for him not to leave me, drank myself into a blackout for a whole week, and when I was done he was just... gone. He switched to school in Iwate. We wanted to go to Sendai together, to save money. And then that fell through, I applied to transfer to Chuo, and the rest is history.” He taps his fingers on the table, restless. “I did a lot of different kinds of work to make ends meet when I was in Sendai. The worlds oldest profession, for one. It's something that's always hiring, and always in demand.”

Kenma nods, clearly not phased. “And it upset him?”

“Yeah. It wasn't why we broke up but it was just another crack in the wall. He had pride- I have none.”

“Don't talk about my friend like that,” Kenma says sharply, kicking him. 

“Ow! Okay, okay.”

The clean things up and walk towards the main building together, Yuuji shoving his hands in his pockets. “His name's Rintarou.”

Kenma nods slightly, listening.

“He's... I guess the best word is cute. Yeah. He's taller, little shorter than me. Built kind of like you. Really slender, but strong, y'know. Smart, really smart. He was going into Engineering when I talked to him last. We had a decent sized volleyball team when we were in school, then, so he didn't really play much, but he was okay. He liked rolls and dogs and fried eggs, and he treated eating out like a sin. He liked cooking. His family liked me, even with all of-” Yuuji gestures vaguely to himself. “You know. Bobata's family took me in, not his. I guess that was for the best.”

Kenma says nothing, just listens.

“You know about the sex work. Rin-chan knew. He wanted- I don't know what he wanted. He wanted me to do normal work, but I had a reputation in the city and no previous experience and I couldn't get a permanent job no matter what I did. No one would take me for anything but temp work. So, y'know. I did what I had to. And eventually he got tired of it. And tired of me swearing up and down I only wanted him, and got tired of being tied down to a sex worker . He found someone else, someone nice and boring and gay with a nice office job and a neat little apartment.” Yuuji kicks a pebble on the road. “It fucked me up. I was doing everything I could think of to get ahead and it just... wasn't enough. And then I left. And that was the end of it, until now.”

“I'm sorry,” Kenma says, somber as an undertaker, and Yuuji takes a steadying breath. 

“Thanks.”

Yuuji drapes an arm around his shoulder, knocking their heads together, and feels a little better as they go to class. When he gets there and they've settled into their seats, he pulls out his phone. 

_Text to: Bobaeta_  
hey.  
Rin texted me. I got upset, wasn't in a good place.  
Sorry for being a shit friend

He gets a text back almost immediately and quickly turns his phone to silent. Mitsuo-sensei doesn't usually give a damn if they have their phones out in class, but if they make any noise he'll flip his shit. And Mitsuo-sensei, tall and lanky with eyes like razor blades and a mouth full of violence, is not someone anyone wants to piss off. Yuuji watches him approach the front of the room, and winces as he slams his bag on the table and whips out markers to explain whatever concept they're going over today. 

**Text from: Bobaeta**  
holy shit bro  
u ok?

 _Text to: Bobaeta_  
been better ngl  
been a weird week  
did you give him my number?

 **Text from: Bobaeta**  
nah man I wouldnt do that to you  
he might have just still had it, you never changed it after you left

 _Text to: Bobaeta_  
shit  
I didnt.  
I'm sorry about how i've been this week, it's been tough.

 **Text from: Bobaeta**  
no shit bro. Don't worry about it

Yuuji pauses to write down a couple notes on something when Kenma elbows him so that he can look at his own phone. They have a pretty good notes sharing practice at this point. Kenma's frowning at his phone, his expression hovering somewhere between annoyance and concern. It's a look that usually gets leveled at texts from Kuroo. Yuuji continues taking notes until Kenma puts his phone down and returns to the practice. 

_Text to: Bobaeta_  
I'm going out tonight, gonna try and shake this funk out of my head

 **Text from: Bobaeta**  
not gonna see that kyou guy again???

Yuuji frowns, confused. 

_Text to: Bobaeta_  
why?? it's not like we're dating

There's an oddly long pause before Bobata texts him again, and Yuuji actually gets a couple notes written before a message pops up. 

**Text from: Bobaeta**  
yeah just. I haven't heard you talk about someone so much since Rin.  
Might be worth going after the guy. 

A shiver of pure fear washes down Yuuji's spine, and his hands shake a little as he types back.

 _Text to: Bobaeta_  
I don't do relationships anymore.  
I gotta focus on this class, text you later.

He turns his phone off completely and shoves it in his pocket, focusing on the board and writing everything word perfect. He can tell that Kenma's eyeing him, but he ignores the attention until it goes away. Mitsuo-sensei is like a crane, stalking back and forth at the front of the room as he rambles on and on about international distribution laws. Class goes quickly, and Yuuji is gathering his things when Kenma nudges him.

“Hmm?”

“Terushima-kun,” Mitsuo-sensei calls, and Yuuji's heart just about stops. He shoves his notebook in his bag and hurries to the front of the room. Mitsuo-sensei gives him a long, slow look, his narrow eyes considering. 

“Yes, sensei?”

Mitsuo taps his fingers on the podium. “Terushima-kun, you get excellent grades. You're well liked by your peers and your teachers, not the least reason why being that you don't tolerate bullies. This program is grateful to have you. However, this past week you have seemed very, ah. What's the phrase? 'Out of it'. Given I've heard no complaint about your conduct in classes from anyone else, I presume it's something in your personal life so please, allow me a moment to be a stuffy adult.”

Yuuji blinks a few times, pole-axed. “Uh. Yes, sensei.”

Mitsuo crosses his arms in front of his chest, his face going somber. “It is not a bad thing, to struggle. To struggle means you're attempting to move beyond something, whatever it is. It becomes a bad thing when you struggle so hard you rip yourself apart in the process. Do you know the parable of the oak and the willow?”

“No,” Yuuji says.

“It's the one I hate the most,” Mitsuo says. “A great oak tree and a willow tree have a contest in the next storm. A monsoon kicks up, and the willow weathers the storm by bending and evading the worst of the storm by being able to move. The oak refuses to bend and is torn up by his roots, and lays uprooted on the ground. The willow announces he's victorious, but the oak insists that he's maintained his honor as an oak facing the wind head on and accepting an honorable death. It's fucking bullshit. Being killed by adversity is no honorable death. Don't be killed by your own pride. You can ask for help to get over shit, and you don't have to take the same road as anyone else does.”

Yuuji's throat closes and he nods, unable to speak. Mitsuo huffs out a noise and taps his fingers on his arm. 

“Right. That's my good deed for the day. Now, out. I have to get halfway across campus to go weed out pre-law students from the department.”

“Yes, sensei,” Yuuji croaks, and joins Kenma in the hall. 

Kenma glances at Mitsuo as he leaves, and waits until they're alone to ask, “What happened?”

“Nothing. Just some advice.” Yuuji takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Who texted you?”

“Akaashi. He wants me to come with him and Bokuto to the psychiatrist this week.” Kenma sighs. “I hate going to see her.”

“I thought you liked Nakamura-san?”

“I do. I just hate going to her.”

“Fair.”

They leave the building and are on their way to the next class when Yuuji says, “Kenma, I'm- I'm glad I have you. As a friend. I don't tell you how much I appreciate you enough.”

Kenma looks up at him, startled, but Yuuji just keeps walking, looking dead ahead.

oOo

A ring. Two rings. Then-

“ _Hello?_ ”

A slow, careful breath. Fingers playing with a pencil. “Hey, Rintarou.”

“ _...Yuuji, hi._ ”

“I just. I thought I'd call, because I tried to type it out a bunch of times and never really got it right so uh. I'm okay. I'm in Tokyo now, at Chuo, doing their game design program. Just doing a bunch of editing work right now but eventually I'll be working for a game company. I'm fine. I have a good life here. Good place, good roommates.” 

“ _I'm glad, god, I was... worried._ ”

A short, rough laugh. “Yeah. I'm... I'm fine. Don't worry about me.”

“ _Yuu, I'm always going to worry about you. We were... fuck, we were awful together, don't get me wrong. I was bad for you. But a piece of me-_ ”

The pencil breaks in his hand. “Stop, please. I don't- I don't want to hear that you love me. I can't keep holding onto the past like that, Rin. You're part of a past I'm trying to escape from, not hold on to. It's fine if you love me, but I don't want to hear that you do. I can't.”

Silence, then, softly- “ _I'm sorry._ ”

“I know. I know. And- and I'm sorry, too, for how this shit turned out.” Pencil pieces, dropping to the floor. “But please... I can't do this again. I can't. Please don't try to reach me again. Lose my number, let me go, and be happy on your own merit.”

A faint sniffle, from both of them. 

“ _Okay. Okay. Just- just one more time, just like I told you every time you left. Goodbye, Yuuji. Be safe._ ”

“Goodbye, Rintarou. I loved you.”

A click. The phone hangs up. 

Salt water splashes onto the floor, helpless grind sobs in his throat. It's over. 

It's over.

oOo

Yuuji goes to a dockfront bar in Ota ward. It's hot and smelly and rough, just what he wants. He's small and pretty and flashy, makes it clear what kind of time he's looking for. He goes home with a woman who's got gray in her hair and an easy smile. He lets her have her way, leaves feeling dull inside when it's done. The night's still on the young side, so he hits another. He goes to the back alley with the man from this one, lets himself be choked while he's pressed up against a wall, kisses like he wants a fight and gets pinned for his troubles.

He stumbles home at 3 AM, filthy and smelling disgusting, and showers with water so hot his skin turns the color of a cooked lobster before he falls into bed. His roommates are out, thankfully, so he crawls into bed without anyone to shame him, and sleeps like the dead.

The next night he does the same thing. This time she's tall and pretty and blonde and American, with nasty sharp nails and an easy smile in Adachi. The night after that, he hops a train to Chiyoda, wanting to tear his skin off. He slips into one of the clubs that has no advertising and a select clientele that likes leather and rubber where he's spent some time before. He spends the night there, being taken out of his mind and put back together by a man he's relatively certain he's seen on TV. He skips his classes to recover, turns on the news on his laptop and huh, whaddya know, he has seen him before. He stays in that night, phone off, and reads his textbooks through the next four weeks of reading. 

The morning after that, he gets up, looking in the mirror. The bruises on his neck from being strangled have faded enough that they don't need any concealer if he goes out. His eyes look dead, nothing glitter won't fix. 

He still feels empty. Hollowed out. Nothing has satisfied him, nothing is _fixing_ his mood. 

Yuuji braces his arms on the sink and feels the tears leak out. 

Kyoutani lives practically on top of the border between Ota and Shinagawa wards. Getting there takes time, but not too much. Yuuji rings the bell, leaning his head against the doorframe. It's late. It's way too late. Yuuji shouldn't be here.

He could walk away.

He doesn't.

The door opens, and Kyoutani's eyes bore into him.

“You _broke_ me,” Yuuji tells him. He must look a mess, in sweat pants and a hoodie and his face a wreck from crying. His hair is a disaster. He can't bring himself to care. “You fucking _broke_ me, I feel terrible.”

Kyoutani looks him over, frowning slightly, and pulls him inside. Yuuji stumbles into him, and Kyoutani wraps a sturdy arm around him to hold him still. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, closing the door. “C'mon, shoes off.”

Yuuji kicks them off, not letting go of him, and buries his face against Kyoutani's neck. Kyoutani takes them to the couch, dropping onto it so he's braced against the arm and Yuuji is curled up on top of him. A blanket is pulled down off of the back, covering them, and Yuuji finds that he's trembling hard. 

“What happened?” Kyoutani asks, smoothing his hair out of his face. 

Yuuji presses his face into Kyoutani's chest. “Fuck you.”

“Mm.” Kyoutani runs his fingers though Yuuji's hair, gentle. Even when he's making him cry, he's so _fucking_ gentle. Yuuji wishes he could hate him. “Talk to me, Yuuji.”

He's crying again. There are tears dripping down his cheeks. 

“Nothing's fixing it,” Yuuji tells him, his voice cracking and breaking. “I feel like shit and no matter how much I try to get past it, it won't go away, it's always gone away before. Nothing- nothing's satisfying, nothing feels as good as you have. Nothing I've done is filling up this stupid fucking _hole_ in my chest.”

Kyoutani's hand has gone still. “What the fuck happened that you're feeling so empty?”

Yuuji shifts a little, so he's pressed up tighter to Kyoutani. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Kyoutani tugs at his hair, but gently. “Brat, you come to me in actual fucking tears telling me that I broke you and you think I'm not a little bit concerned about that? Tell me what's going on so I can either fix what I did or go beat the shit out of whatever upset you this bad.”

That gets Yuuji to laugh a little, but it peters off. Kyoutani seems content to wait, and Yuuji has to take a bit before the words will come. 

“He texted me. Rintarou did. He texted me so I called him back and he wanted to tell me that he still loved me and I made him stop, because I can't do that again.”

Kyoutani's hand is broad and solid against his head, holding him steady. “Who's Rintarou?”

Yuuji laughs, broken. He can recite the story in his sleep now. “Numajiri Rintarou. He was on my team. We started dating, word got out, we were both kicked from the team. Coach tried to save it and the rest of the team threatened to walk. They did. Administration didn't care. Word got even further out. I got kicked out of my parents house, but I wouldn't break up with him. My friend Bobata took me in, his family's the closest I've got to the real deal now. We both got into Tohoku but I couldn't get a job no matter what it was because I had a fucking reputation in the city, and-”

“And you did what you had to,” Kyoutani finishes when his voice fails. “You did what you could.”

Yuuji smiles bitterly. “Gonna kick me out?”

“Dunno why I would,” Kyoutani says, stroking his hair. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I still edit porn for a living,” Yuuji says, lifting his head to look at him. “That's what I do for work. I'm not like you, I don't do an honest hard day's labor, I've fucked men for money and I've been filmed and I edit that shit as well. He broke up with me because he didn't want his cock where others had been. I've spent every fucking second I've been in Tokyo getting away from my past and he fucking goes and calls me all over again and brings it right back, and _you_. Fuck you, because you're Miyagi too and fucking _Yahaba Shigeru_ , you come waltzing into my life and I can't cut you out because for the last two weeks while I've been fucking random strangers to feel better _nothing_ has felt as good as when I'm with you.” 

He sits up, climbing off the couch and scrubbing at his eyes. Kyoutani doesn't get up to follow him as Yuuji braces his hands on the window sill, taking a deep breath.

“You know the worst thing?” he asks the street outside. “You know what the fucking worst thing is? I finally figured it out. I know why I don't like Yahaba. He and Rin could be siblings. Same stupid fucking haircut, pretty face, big eyes, same love for volleyball, and the same petty humor. I bet I'd be great friends with Yahaba if I didn't see Rin every time I looked at him.” Yuuji sighs, what little anger he's drummed up dripping away into aching emptiness. 

“I'm so tired,” Yuuji whispers, unwilling to turn around. “I'm so _fucking_ tired of this. I'm so tired of my past sneaking up to bite me.”

He hears Kyoutani moving around behind him, but doesn't turn his head. There's steps, then arms around his waist. 

“So I didn't break you,” Kyoutani says, his voice a quiet rumble. “Just made you realize you deserved better.”

“Fuck you,” Yuuji mumbles without heat, turning around in his arms to curl up against him again. He's solid and reassuring. “I was perfectly happy without you and your goddamn magic touch in my life.”

“Yeah, well...” Kyoutani clears his throat. "Over the past two weeks I've realized I'm not happy without you in mine.”

Yuuji pulls back to look at him. Kyoutani glares at him, but his cheeks have gone pink. 

“That's a beautiful line,” Yuuji informs him. “I am seriously a little dazzled right now.”

“Shut up,” Kyoutani mutters. “It's the truth. You... you made me smile. You keep making me smile. And yeah, shit's weird and convoluted and we've both got our issues but- I don't want to lose the best fuck of my life just because we've both got baggage. I don't want to jump into like, a relationship or anything. Friends with benefits is fine. Or fuck buddies that maybe eventually get to be friends with each other.”

Yuuji stares at him, a little touched. “You mean it?”

Kyoutani glares at him. “Of course I mean it, you little shit.”

“Oh.” Yuuji rests his head on Kyoutani's shoulder again. “I... I want that too.”

The mood calms and eases as they stand there. 

“So,” Kyoutani says after Yuuji's heart rate's finally gone back to normal. “Now that we've been frustrated at each other, d'you want me to fuck you-”

“Oh, fuck, please.”

oOo

For the third time, Yuuji wakes up in Kyoutani Kentarou's bed.

This time, he's alone, Kyoutani's side still warm from a recent vacating. Yuuji yawns, stretching on the soft sheets and feeling all the aches of the week. He reaches over and finds his phone just where he expects it, plugged in and everything. Twitter informs him that #gamedevissuffering is trending, which he can get behind, and that it's an idol's birthday. The weather is mild but sunny, and there's a text from Kenma. He unplugs the phone from the wall, rolling over into the warm space that Kyoutani's left behind. 

**Text from: Matcha**  
Keiji wants to know if you want therapy sessions as a birthday gift this year.  
I told him that was a bit much but figured I'd ask  
otherwise you're getting piercings as my gift

Yuuji smiles, touched.

 _Text to: Matcha_  
Akaashi's too good for all of us lol  
tell him yes  
I think I could use it.

Kenma texts back almost instantly, unusual for as early in the morning as it is.

 **Text from: Matcha**  
Good.  
I've missed you this week. Are you coming today?

Yuuji's heart aches a little.

 _Text to: Matcha_  
Yeah. I think I've got my head on straight again

 **Text from: Matcha**  
You don't have anything straight. 

_Text to: Matcha_  
Oh damn  
nice one.  
But thanks, for letting me deal with this  
I'm trying to be better.

 **Text from: Matcha**  
all I can ask is that you try  
and that you take the notes in Business English today, I want to finish this level

 _Text to: Matcha_  
lol you got it bro

He puts his phone down, and climbs out of the comfortable bed. A pair of sweats have been laid out for him, as well as an enormously oversized t-shirt. He takes them with a smile, and goes to the bathroom for a quick shower. He catches a glimpse of Kyoutani cooking in the kitchen, shirtless, and resists the urge to deviate from his plan. The shower is warm and soothing to sore muscles, and he scrubs his hair clean and rinses down the rest of his body. He takes his time, letting the hot water beat out the worst of the tension in his body, and breathes the steam in deep. 

Yuuji feels more like a human when he dries off and pulls on the clothes. He leaves the fan on to help air it out, and heads to the kitchen. 

Kyoutani is making tomago rolls again, and Yuuji slips up behind him to wrap his arms around Kyoutani's waist. 

“Morning,” he says quietly, watching as Kyoutani folds them up. “Thanks for last night.”

“I like you too much to turn you away,” Kyoutani says gruffly, and hands him back a piece of apple. Delighted, Yuuji eats it from his fingers. He catches a hint of a smile on Kyoutani's face, and rests his cheek against his broad back.

“You gonna feed me again this morning?”

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Oh, I want.” Yuuji smiles against his back. 

He eats kneeling next to Kyoutani, head pillowed on his leg, and feels so secure and safe he almost falls back asleep. Kyoutani drives him back to his apartment for a change of clothes, then takes him to Chuo. It's nice, riding with him. They squabble over the radio in Kyoutani's little Civic (a good 20 years younger than Kuroo's, but second hand), they both complain about the construction, Kyoutani almost stops to pet a placid looking Shiba Inu on the side of the road, and by the time they reach Chuo's drop off Yuuji's face feels like it's about to crack in two. His chest feels solid and whole.

“Hey,” Yuuji says, and Kyoutani gives him another side-eye. Yuuji feels like maybe there's going to be a lot of those in his future. 

“Hey, what?”

“Let's do dinner.”

Kyoutani shrugs. “Sure. Where?”

“There's a nice little totally-not-a-yakuza front down the street from my place,” Yuuji says, and Kyoutani agrees to meet him there at seven.

Yuuji kisses him before he leaves the car, pleased at how his chest feels light again, and climbs out. The wind is warm, carrying the faint scent of fresh pine and city, and the campus is full of chattering life. People walk past in all sorts of colors and shapes, laughing and talking together, smiling and joking. The sky above him is clear and blue, the sunlight bright enough to blind. It feels like a good day. A new beginnings kind of day.

“Hey,” Kyoutani says, as he goes to shut the door.

“What?” Yuuji asks, bending down in such a way that shows off the expanse of his body. Kyoutani actually grins, looking his fill, and Yuuji can't quite help licking his lips. 

“Just dinner?” Kyoutani asks, his voice with just a hint of gravel in it. Yuuji shivers, delighted, and grins right back at him.

“Mmm.” Yuuji winks at him, and Kyoutani rolls his eyes. “Let's play it by ear.”

He meets up with Kenma, takes notes, and when they walk into Mitsuo-sensei's class he thinks about oak trees and willows bending in uncertain wind. He texts Bobata, sends Kuroo a picture of Kenma's ick-face when he gets called on to answer a question, and doesn't feel empty at all. 

Mitsuo calls him over after class, and Yuuji walks up to him. 

Mitsuo gives him a long look, tapping long fingers on his podium. “You look better. You looked a whole lot worse, but you look better. Did you get everything sorted out?”

“No,” Yuuji says, because it's the truth. “I didn't get it all worked out. I don't think it's going to be fixed for a long time, if ever. But... I think I got enough of it sorted out that I can work on the part I didn't without being stressed about it. Or as stressed about it.”

“Good,” Mitsuo says, giving him a rare smile. 

Yuuji hesitates for a moment before asking, “In the parable... the oak's lying, isn't it? I mean, it's literally lying on the ground, but it's also lying to the willow. Even when it's dying, it can't face death without saying that it was all going according to plan. So it bullshits the honor thing to make it seem like it's a good death when really it's a death that was avoidable by being flexible. If it had been flexible and willing to bend before straightening back up, it would have lived, and since it's ashamed to be beaten it lies. It doesn't say that, in the parable, but that... that makes more sense to me than fake honor ever would.” 

Mitsuo leans against the podium, smiling slightly. “I mean, that's entirely possible. I like your interpretation much better, that's for sure.”

“Either way,” Yuuji says, “It's better to be the willow. The willow's the only one who makes it through the story either way. Being flexible is no bad thing. Being true to your nature is no bad thing.”

“That's right.”

Yuuji bites his lip, looking at Mitsuo. “Why did you tell me about the parable?”

Mitsuo looks out over the lecture hall, his face going somber. “Because I'd hate for someone who's been as flexible as a willow to turn into an oak through others actions.”

Yuuji nods, thoughtful. He bows and leaves, Mitsuo smiling as he goes. 

Kenma falls into step with him outside the lecture hall, smiling a little, and Yuuji wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

“Hey, Matcha.”

“Hmm?”

“We should get the piercings anyway.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and Yuuji tips his head up to feel the fresh air.

oOo

(Kyoutani and Yuuji have dinner. They even make it most of the way through the meal before they get to-go boxes and make use of Kyoutani's back seat. It's a good night.)

(Yahaba is less than thrilled when Kyoutani shows up with Yuuji in tow to get his shocks fixed.)

(Yuuji thinks they might be able to be friends after all.)

oOo

A month passes, a month of casual texting and Kyoutani griping about Hanatarou while Yuuji screams about idiots in his program, while they have lunch and lazy late night sex on the weekends when they're free. Another month passes of Kyoutani cooking breakfasts, Yuuji taking tasty morsels from his fingers and clambering onto his lap to watch bad action movies. Three consecutive months of sex that has him crying or screaming, satisfied and sated to his core, of late night conversations and mornings in Kyoutani's sturdy arms, of arguing about the best way to cook unagi, of going to shrines together and scandalizing the neighbors. They are, Yuuji's pretty sure, the best three months of his life to date.

He's in the gym with Bokuto when it hits him, and he almost drops the bar on his neck. Bokuto, spotting him, grabs the bar as his arms jerk from shock. 

“Whoa!”

“Holy shit,” Yuuji says as they rack the bar. “Holy shit, I'm in love.”

Bokuto stares at him. “What?”

Yuuji spins around to look at him properly, leaning into his space. Bokuto blinks, trying to focus on him while Yuuji's too close. 

“Bokuto,” Yuuji says urgently, “I haven't fucked more than one person in over three months. Just Kyoutani. Is this what love is?”

“I think that's what sexual compatibility is.”

“He makes me breakfast and I buy groceries with him and we eat out sometimes and we watch bad television on the couch and I have a whole drawer at his place and when I look at him my heart gets really fast sometimes or slows down a lot and I just have to kiss him,” Yuuji rattles off, his eyes going really wide. “Oh my god, Bokkun, I think I'm in love. And we're dating.”

Bokuto rests his huge hands on Yuuji's shoulders, very gently.

“Terushima,” he says, with all the solemnity of a priest, golden eyes dancing with amusement, “I don't know how to tell you this, but you're blind as a bat sometimes!”

Yuuji punches him in the stomach. It's like punching a brick wall. 

Holding his smarting hand close to his chest while Bokuto laughs near hysterically, Yuuji calls Kyoutani.

There's a click, and the man himself picks up.

“ _What?_ ” He demands, and Yuuji's heart leaps. The traitor. “ _I'm in the middle of working on that stupid fucking cherry door I told you about-_ ”

“Are we dating?!” Yuuji blurts out. “Have we been dating this whole time? Kyou, we fucked up. We went straight to dating after deciding to make friends!”

There's a loud sigh down the line. “ _Oh my god, Yuuji._ ”

“We're dating and you never told me! Isn't that what we are?!”

“ _I mean, we never put a name to it, but like. Yeah, I guess. We could be, if we want to. Wanna be boyfriends?_ ”

Yuuji makes an appalling squeaky noise as Kyoutani laughs. 

“Congratulations, you broke me,” Yuuji manages to get out, and Kyoutani just laughs harder. “I love you. Just so you know.”

“ _I love you too. Bring some of that soba you got last time home, I'm craving it._ ”

“Yeah,” Yuuji says weakly, and hangs up as his face goes red. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Good job!” Bokuto slaps him on the back, hard enough to almost bowl him over. “Welcome to the club! It's not very exclusive and I think Kenma's got first dibs on designing the jackets. We should really do some more reps! You've gotta get these twig arms into better shape, Kenma could take you the fuck _out_.”

“Kenma can't take me anywhere,” Yuuji sniffs. “I have a boyfriend for that.”

Bokuto laughs, big and loud and easy, and Yuuji's smiling wide as they get back to work.


	5. Say That You Love Me

**Three Years Later**

“You're _really_ sure that this is the place you want,” Yuuji says as they look around Potential New Home #31. Yuuji is getting extremely tired of house hunting, but Kyoutani is absolutely in love with this one and they've both vetoed all the others for various reasons. Personally, Yuuji was very fond of Potential New Home #42, but he'd been shot down on the grounds of no parking for Kyoutani's car and a shitty walk to the train. He'd conceded defeat with grace. Mostly. “Like, really really sure that this is the place you want to spend your sleeping hours in for at least the next two years. Because we have other options.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes so hard it's as if they're going to fall out of his head. “It's in a good area, we're close to your work and mine _and_ your friends, the place is massive, and the rent is reasonable. There's parking, a park nearby, decent restaurants in the area, and there's room for an office at home so you can work from home instead of commuting when it gets ugly in the winter. I like it.”

“I wouldn't say the rent is reasonable so much as you're stupid wealthy,” Yuuji says pointedly, and Kyoutani rolls his eyes again. 

“For the amount of money we'll collectively be bringing in, it'll be fine.”

“It's an _entire fucking house_ , Kyou!”

“Yeah, but it's a nice house.”

It is. Yuuji honestly likes it a lot. It's a detached house, two stories, with a rooftop balcony and lots of open space. The walls are freshly painted clean white, the floors are the soft golden tan of pine, the lighting is nice and the neighborhood is admittedly great. The price tag is his only concern. 

But.

But the price tag is a concern. It's a whole house, and not a small one at that.

He watches as Kyoutani walks to the sink, looking through the cut out that shows the living-dining area, and his heart sits in his throat. Their agent has blessedly left them alone to discuss, used to their shenanigans after three months of them back-and-forthing, and Yuuji swallows hard before walking over to Kyoutani. 

“What is it?” Kyoutani asks, looking to him.

“If we get this place, the amount it is...” Yuuji steels himself, takes a deep breath. This is important, and he can't just let it go. “Look, living here, it'll be very expensive. It's a commitment.”

Kyoutani's eyes soften. “Is that what you're worried about?” He reaches out, hand open and inviting.

“Of course I'm worried,” Yuuji mutters, taking his hand. “I just... I...” He stares at the floor, with its beautiful grained wood.

“But what if I wake up one morning and no longer want you?” Kyoutani asks, blunt as ever, and Yuuji winces. “Is that where you're going with this?”

“Yeah.”

Kyoutani gives him a long look, and says after the moment has stretched itself terribly thin, “I want to marry you, Yuuji. Or- or have a fucking ceremony of intent. I don't care which. But I want to marry you. This isn't a proposal, I haven't got a ring or a speech or anything, but we've been living together for two years now and I want to live with you for the rest of my life. An apartment's a commitment, sure, but I've been committed to you for a long fucking time. And if I wake up and no longer want you, then we'll be going to a couples counselor because I sure as hell would want to figure out _why_ , since you're the best thing that's ever come into my life.”

Yuuji stares at him, jaw dropped. 

“You're gonna catch flies if that keeps hanging open,” Kyoutani says, tapping under his chin with his knuckle.

Yuuji's mouth snaps closed, and he steps into Kyoutani's arms to hug him tight. Kyoutani huffs out a laugh, wrapping him in his arms and pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“I want this one,” Yuuji says faintly. “I want it. Kyou, I want this house.”

“You're sure?”

Yuuji pulls back, grabbing his face with both hands to kiss him.

Kyoutani pulls him in tighter, kissing him hard, and Yuuji can feel him smiling against his lips. 

They get the house.

Moving is a pain, but they fill up the place with sturdy, comfortable things. They keep the colors soft and neutral, use the natural colors of wood wherever they can. Kyoutani builds Yuuji a desk, Yuuji breaks out pastels to make a mountain scene for Kyoutani to hang above their bed. They have a welcoming party, everyone coos over their home, and when they fall into bed that night they're asleep in bare seconds, exhausted past words.

oOo

They pack up into Yahaba's '71 Buick Skylark early in the morning months later, the car herself sitting quietly on the roadside and attracting attention from early risers like a magnet. It's a thing of beauty, fully restored and painted white with black stripes. Yuuji slumps in the backseat, Kyoutani sitting shotgun as Yahaba puts the car in gear and they head out.

It's not a bad drive to Sendai. Yuuji sleeps most of the way there, waking up when Yahaba and Kyoutani get into a squabble about who gets to control the radio. The road passes along without a hitch, the leather of the backseat comfortable and the ride itself smooth. When they cross into Miyagi, he yawns and wakes properly. They're in the city proper by 11 o'clock, and cruising into Aoba ward not long after. It's a winding, twisting road out of the heart of the city into the countryside to reach the Kyoutani family residence, and when they stop in front of a sprawling old-style house Yahaba makes a face.

“D'you actually want me to go in?” he asks, fingers drumming on the wheel. It's a long running joke, at this point. Yahaba has no intentions of continuing on to his parents home or a hotel.

Kyoutani opens the door and gets out, dropping the seat so Yuuji can climb out of the back and stretch. “Do what you want, but Umecchi will cry if you don't .”

“Can't disappoint her,” Yahaba sighs, and climbs out as well.

Yuuji carries their bags up to the door, his feet familiar on the path these days, and looks up to the clear blue sky. It's a beautiful day, and the trees are lush and green in the garden around the house. Behind it, he can see the Kyoutani workshop where Kyoutani Akira, his Kyou's father, does the intricate work in the repairing of shrines. Both Shinto priest and master carpenter, Akira has been repairing shrines since he was a child and passed the skill to Kyou. 

A hand on his arm makes him jump, and he looks into Kyou's dark eyes.

“You okay?”

Yuuji nods. “I'm good.”

Kyou reaches up, pushing his hair into place, eyes searching his face. “Hey. You ever need to tap out, tell me, we'll take a walk.”

Yuuji nods, tension in his chest easing. The Kyoutani's are all good people, warm and welcoming, but they can be overwhelming. Yahaba stalks past them, pulling open the door. 

“Your wayward son has returned!” he calls into the house. “And Kentarou's here too!”

There's a pounding of footsteps and three people rush into the hallway. Yuuji braces for impact.

“Yuu-nii!” Kyoutani Umeko, the beloved baby of the family and 14 years old, practically launches herself into him. “Yuu-nii, you're here!”

Umeko's tall for her age, close to her brother in height already. She has the same deep set eyes, the same stubborn snub of a nose, and the same raw power on the court that her brother does. She attends Niiyama Girls, and is their ace already. She'll be a powerhouse as she ages, and Yuuji's stupidly proud of her. 

“Hey Ume,” he says, fond, setting the bags down to hug her and lift her as much as he can. “Look at you! You're taller every time I see you!”

Umeko laughs in excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet when he sets her down. “You caaame!”

“Of course I came, it's your birthday,” he says fondly, and ruffles her short hair.

“Shige-nii!”

Yahaba gets bowled over as well and grumbles about excitable Kyoutani's, but hugs her tight as Kyoutani Touga and Akira descend on their son and his partner. Touga is a big, bulky woman with a carpenters arms and hair eternally in a bun at the base of her neck. She hugs Yuuji, kissing his cheeks and ruffling his hair, and pushes him into Akira's direction without a word. She doesn't talk much, the same as her husband and eldest. Where Umeko got it from, no one knows, because the rest of the family isn't much in the way of chatter boxes.

Akira is a burly man who walks with the serenity of an enlightened monk. While Touga fusses over her eldest son, he gives Yuuji a slow smile and steps aside to show him in. He takes the luggage from him, leading him up the stairs to Kyou's old room, which has long since become a guest room. Kyou isn't one for holding onto possessions. The only indication that a teenage boy once lived in this room, actually, is a desk with a photo album on it and a beautifully framed picture of Kyou and his old dog, Mamesuke. 

“It's good to see you, son,” Akira says as they set the luggage on the bed. 

“It's good to see you, too,” Yuuji says, and hugs him tight. “I've missed you, Otou-san.”

Akira holds him with arms as sturdy as an oak, cradling his head as though he were a tiny child, and Yuuji finds that he's able to breathe better than he has since they got in the car. 

“Come,” he says when he pulls back, and Yuuji follows without question.

Lunch is being set on the table, Umeko talking a mile a minute to Yahaba about their new setter and Yahaba dutifully following after her to correct the place settings as she goes. Kyou is in the kitchen doing who knows what but looking intense about it, and Yuuji practically falls into his seat at the table. The others join him, Kyou at his right and Umeko to his left, and they all dig into the food. It doesn't seem like a typical birthday celebration, but it's exactly what Umeko asks for every year. There's no one in the world she loves as much as her brother, and just wants to be able to spend the day with all of them together as a family. And family has expanded to add in Yahaba and Yuuji without a question. 

They're finishing up with lunch, laughing about one of Yahaba's more finicky clients when Kyou clears his throat. Yuuji reaches over under the table to take his hand as everyone looks to him. 

“So, uh,” Kyou says, taking a deep breath. “We've um. Talked about this before. But I just have one more surgery to go through and then I can get my papers changed. And it's going to be in a little under a year. We scheduled it a couple days ago.”

Akira bursts into happy tears, Umeko shrieks in excitement, and Touga simply nods with a pleased smile. 

“Good,” she says, and dishes him more curry. 

Yahaba grins, punching Kyou's shoulder, and Yuuji squeezes his hand as Kyou goes red. It's a big step, one they've been waiting for over the past three years, but the time's finally come. 

“In other news, my uncle sold me the shop,” Yahaba says, and everyone boos. “I know, I know, he's an awful human being keeping me stuck there so f- _dang_ long but! This means that I can close it except on weekends and go back to school! So, good things after all!” There's more cheering, and Yahaba smiles as he drinks his water. 

“I don't have any big news,” Yuuji says when everyone looks expectantly at him. “Just that we got invited to the Game Awards this year for the Quest for Hope sequel. It's up for Best Narrative and Games for Impact.”

Umeko drops her fork, her eyes going very big, and Yahaba chokes on his water. Kyou stares at him, jaw dropped. 

“We found out yesterday,” Yuuji says, unable to keep from smiling. “I wanted to surprise you all.”

Umeko gapes at him. “This is the _best_ birthday ever!”

With all the bombs suitably dropped and everyone congratulated, Kyou and Umeko take off for an afternoon of shopping together in Yahaba's car for bonding time, and Yahaba immediately falls asleep in the back yard on the soft grass. Yuuji joins him, smiling, and has a very pleasant nap. The siblings return in the early evening, Kyou loaded down with very nice gym shoes and new gear for his sister as well as a new yukata and obi (appropriately themed with images of royalty for the ace of the Queens). She models her new things for them, very happy about having been spoiled, and Yuuji's heart feels so very soft when Umeko hugs Kyou tight, dressed in soft pink silk and looking absolutely wonderful. 

When they fall into bed, Yahaba asleep in the living room, Yuuji curls up tight against his boyfriend. 

“I like that you spoil her,” he says, and Kyou chuckles. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You only do it once a year, but you always make sure that she knows she's loved and cherished and give her the best day you can. I bet she didn't ask for any of that.”

Kyou smiles, a flash in the darkness. “She didn't. She's so frugal, I like spoiling her. She deserves the best.”

“Mmm, that she does.” Yuuji kisses his cheek, and settles down. “I love it here. The shop, the house. You, Yahaba, your family. It's just so warm and happy here.”

Kyou kisses the top of his head, his lips lingering, and Yuuji feels himself melt into the sheets. 

“I'm glad that you love them as much as I do,” Kyou says quietly, his hand finding Yuuji's. “I'm glad that we can build a home together with them.”

Yuuji sleeps well, the house creaking and groaning around them as it settles, and dreams of only pleasant things.

oOo

“Okay,” Yuuji says a few days later as they get off the train to walk to the Bobata family apartment. “It's not that bad.”

“I've met Ami-san, it's going to be that bad,” Kyoutani says, clutching his hand. They swerve around a pair of giggling schoolgirls looking at their phones, and Yuuji wishes that Yahaba hadn't been stolen by Mattsun and Makki to help with their move. Walking in downtown Sendai is a pain on the best of days. “I love you, and I love your family, but the woman is terrifying.”

“Oh come on-”

“Yuuji. The second time we met, she took me to a mahjong parlor, won a million yen, took me on a drinking tour of half the bars in the district, and then got up the next day and _went to teach class on time_. She's not human. She's a goddess.”

Yuuji does have to admit that his Other-Mother is maybe a little bit... intense.

They arrive at the Bobata apartment building (nice, mansion style, 4LDK, frankly enormous) and are buzzed up. Yuuji has his hand raised to knock when Bobata Ami flings the door open.

“Yuuji, sweetheart!”

“Hey, Okaa-san,” Yuuji says, stepping into her arms and holding her tight. She's a tiny thing, barely 5'3, and he loves her with all his heart. Tiny, skinny, with curly brown hair she keeps dyed and cat eye glasses in near neon pink and a job teaching math to high school students, she's a terror to behold. He'd die for her. “Did you miss me?”

“Did I miss you-” she clucks her tongue and tugs him inside, beaming at a wide-eyed Kyoutani. “ _There_ you are, oh, you've grown even more handsome in the time we've been apart. Come in, come in!”

She bustles away into the house as Yuuji and Kyoutani take off their shoes, and Kyoutani takes a deep, steadying breath.

“I keep forgetting your family's so... excited. About everything.”

Yuuji snickers. “You could put it like that.” 

From within the depths of the house there's a shriek of excitement, and Yuuji braces himself as Bobata Kazuma comes barreling down the stairs from the upper level and launches himself at Yuuji.

“FINALLY!”

“Bro!”

Yuuji gets near tackled but nearly tackles him back, hugging Kazuma as tight as he can. It really feels like coming home then, safe and secure in Kazuma's hold. They get to see each other about once every six months, and it's not nearly enough and never will be.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Yuuji tells him, holding on. “I love you so much, man.”

“I love you too. I love you _more_.”

“No, I love _you_ more.”

Kyoutani, leaning against the wall, looks deeply amused as this goes on for at least another full three minutes. 

Kazuma finally pulls back and ruffles his hair. “Anabara's on his way, he got stuck in traffic. Kyoutani, my man, how have you gotten even wider? I think you could use me as a toothpick, fucking hell. I saw about the Game Awards, you fuckin madman, I'm so proud of you it's ridiculous and I'm getting you champagne to celebrate at some point- oh hey did you hear about-”

And it dissolves into excited chatter. Kazuma gets roped into helping with the kitchen, so Yuuji and Kyoutani sit at the table while Ami gives running commentary in between Kazuma's rambling. Anabara finally arrives nearly an hour late, looking utterly bedraggled but thrilled to see Yuuji. Yuuji scrambles to his feet to hug his former coach and favorite teacher of all time. Anabara is as sturdy as ever, even if he is the size of a circumference of a pencil. 

“There you are, so good to see you,” Anabara says, clapping him on the back and fetching plates down from the cupboard. He fetches a lot more than needed for the people there, and Kyoutani closes his eyes in resignation.

Yuuji holds in his sigh. “How many are coming for dinner?”

Ami grins.

In the end, it's Kyoutani, Yuuji, Ami, Anabara, Kazuma, and Bobata's Sousuke, Momo, Toushirou, Gin, Kaname, Izuku, and Shuuhei that cram into the apartment. They come bearing food, coo over Kyoutani and Yuuji, heckle Ami and Anabara for dating (with a scandalous age difference of 5 years. Ami had her son young, and Anabara is older than he appears), get riotously drunk on sake, and insist the happy couple come back the next day for a day trip to visit the rest of the family. 

“I love your family,” Kyoutani says through gritted teeth as they wait for the return train, both of them swaying from the sake. “I lo-I love your- your family.”

“When they kill me, bury me with all the evidence I did porn,” Yuuji tells him seriously. 

“Oh god,” Kyoutani groans, and buries his face against Yuuji's neck. “We have to go see your great-aunt Atsuko. She's going to ask me about my tattoos again. And your Uncle Taichi is going to try and lecture me on the evils of imported woods. Why? Why? He's not in imports or carpentry, why does he fucking _care_.”

“My gangster wanna-be boyfriend, everybody,” Yuuji announces to the platform. A couple of girls in what look like Aoba Johsai uniforms hide their giggles as Kyoutani nuzzles him. “The scariest man you'll ever meet.”

“I'm gonna have a really nasty hangover tomorrow.”

He does. 

But they survive, all the same, and after much shed tears they say goodbye to the Bobata's and Anabara (who cries when hugging him. Yuuji loves his coach) and head back to the Kyoutani family home for the last night before they drive back to Tokyo. Yahaba's loaned them his car, looking very hassled as he came out of a rigid looking two story house to give them the keys, and Yuuji winces in sympathy. Families are wonderful, but they're best when not seen all the time, he finds. 

The Terushima family lived in the downtown area of Sendai when Yuuji lived with them. He has no idea where they live now, but he's fairly certain it's not in the rural area, which is why he feels completely comfortable going with Kyoutani to the full market for steaks. After two days with the Bobata's, he's in need of spoiling and Kyoutani is obviously itching to oblige so they can both wind down. They get a few looks walking in together, not that that's particularly unusual, but Kyoutani's recognized as Akira's boy and interest among the staff quickly dies down. They head back to the meats, Kyoutani examining a few different cuts as Yuuji surveys their choice for evening sake. 

It's a very boring, routine thing. The lights are bright, the speakers are playing _sakana sakana sakana_ , and a little obaa-chan is looking at some fresh fish with razor sharp interest. Another average day in an average market, in a quiet near-rural town. 

“Yuuji?”

The voice is familiar, like something out of a dream. He turns on instinct, mind not fully kicking in until he sees.

Her.

His former sister stares at him, eyes wide. She has a baby with her, a little girl tucked in her arms, with pretty brown eyes that look around the world with great curiosity. 

A niece.

Yuuji has a niece.

“Hi, Fumie-nee,” Yuuji says quietly. Kyoutani jolts, turning to look, and sees her. He puts the meat down and walks to Yuuji's side, hand coming to rest at the small of his back protectively. 

“Yuuji,” Fumie says, her voice not giving away her emotions. “You're back?”

“Just to visit,” he says, looking at the little girl. She's so terribly small, with such tiny little hands. She watches him with the wondrous solemnity of all curious babies being introduced to new things, and he wants nothing more than to hold her and meet her. “We live in a house in Tokyo now, I'm doing game design with a company I help run. This is my partner, Kyoutani Kentarou. He's a carpenter, he repairs shrines and does custom woodworking.”

Kyoutani bows with quiet elegance, and Fumie does as well after a moments startled hesitation.

“You... have a child,” Yuuji says, because he has no idea what else to say. 

Fumie nods, biting her lip. “Chizuru. Her name is Suzuki Chizuru. And... and I'm Suzuki Fumie now, too.”

“Congratulations on your marriage,” Yuuji says, and surprises himself by meaning it. “I remember him. He seemed nice.”

Fumie gives him a ghost of a smile, looking a little hopeful, and takes a small step forward. “I've been... I've been wanting to reach out, lately. Having Chizuru-chan has put a lot of things into perspective for me. I don't know that you even want to talk to me, and you have every right not to, but- but if you want, I'd like- I'd like to give you my number. See if... if maybe I can start to fix all the ways that I failed you. So I won't fail her.”

Yuuji wonders what she would do if he said it was too little, too late. What she would think, how she would feel. He doesn't owe her anything. Not a second chance, not a second thought, no gentle words or explanations. 

But he doesn't want that. 

There's been enough pain and suffering in the Terushima family life. He doesn't want to extend the cycle of lashing out, breaking things off, not caring when there's something there to care for. He doesn't want to go back to the way things were, but he does want to help Fumie learn to see what and where things went wrong, to stop it from ever happening again to another person. He wants to be there for that tiny new life she has cradled in her arms, whose little fingers might yet hold another girl's hands, who should be able to know without the shadow of a doubt that she's loved no matter who _she_ loves. 

“I'd like that,” he says, and Fumie's smile is a little watery. 

He holds Chizuru while she puts her number in his phone, marveling at how small she is. Her big dark eyes are serious as ever, and he presses a kiss to her downy forehead. 

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispers, Kyoutani leaning in over his shoulder to look at her with big, fascinated eyes. “I'm your uncle. I'm so glad to meet you.”

They part awkwardly, with quiet good-byes, and Yuuji gives up on finding steak with the state he's in. 

They drive back out to the Kyoutani house, quiet and dark for once with Akira and Touga away on business at a Hokkaido shrine, and Umeko back at school. Yuuji showers while Kyou cooks dinner, and when he comes back down to the dining room he finds that Kyou's gathering up a single plate heaped with food. 

“Thought we could eat in the bedroom,” Kyou says, and Yuuji sighs with relief. 

They keep even the slightest hints of their sexual lives away from their families and most of their friends (the Akaashi-Bukuto-Kozume-Kuroo's aside), but Yuuji doesn't mind when it's behind closed doors and no one's due to come in at any point. Besides, with the mood he's in, there's not a chance of either of them stripping down for sex. It's a shift in power that he needs, Kyou taking the reins for a minute to let him destress. Yuuji kneels so that he can lean against Kyou's leg, taking meat piece by piece and savoring each one. Kyou never makes it debasing, to be fed. He makes it into a gentle, kind thing, something of beautiful service and tender love. 

Yuuji loves him so very much. 

Night falls fast, the air growing chilled. Kyou heads to the bathtub to soak and relax after a shower, kissing his forehead as he goes. Yuuji walks out onto the balcony, taking a deep breath, and dials. The phone rings twice, before it's picked up. 

“Hello?”

He swallows hard. “Hey, Fumie-nee. I hope I'm not calling too late.”

It's a short talk, a quick update on a few things in their lives. Suzuki, his new brother in-law, is a good man. A kind man. Fumie doesn't talk to their parents anymore. Her in-laws are good people, her daughter is terribly sweet, and she still likes soba. When they hang up, Yuuji puts his phone in his pocket and leans on the wood railing of the balcony, staring into the Miyagi forests. 

Kyou joins him in a bit, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing the top of his head. 

“Good talk?” he asks, his voice quiet. 

“Yeah,” Yuuji says, and is surprised when he means it. “Good talk.”

Kyou leans against him, and together they look up at the stars. The universe stretches away from them in its endless brilliance, and a hurt Yuuji didn't know was there begins to heal.

oOo

Yuuji wakes up first the morning that they're back in Tokyo. The sun peeks through the curtains of their new house, spilling golden light over them and lighting the room up in soft brilliance. Kyoutani stirs as Yuuji traces the flag hanging from the Torii gate on Kyoutani's arm, muscles flexing and bunching as he does.

“What is it?” Kyou murmurs, his voice scratchy in the morning light. Yuuji thinks perhaps, as Kyoutani Kentarou blinks up at him, he's never loved him more.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Always thought Kyoutani Yuuji had a nice ring to it."

"... I'm not awake enough for this."

"Are you- _answer me_ you little shit!"

" _Of course_ the answer is yes! Well, once you have a ring. A real one!"

"Oh, good."

"You're a menace."

"Yeah. But you love me."

"You know, I really do."

"Save the "I do's" for the aisle, babe."

At a brutal 6:32 in the morning, a pillow fight breaks out in what's soon to become only the Kyoutani household, and laughter fills the air. The neighbors are unbothered, the trains run on as they ever have, and the city goes on with its life in blissful lack of awareness. Once he has his breath back from laughing, Yuuji smiles, leaning down to kiss his soon-to-be-proper-fiancé slow and sweet. Kyoutani grins up at him, eyes bright with excitement he can't quite hold back. Yuuji laughs against his lips, nipping at the lower once.

“Aren't you so glad I'm shameless?”

The sun comes up over Tokyo Bay, and the first day of the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I actually had an epilogue written. And then I scrapped the whole thing, and you got this instead. It's better, I think. See, I told you everyone gets a happy ending. Just took us a bit to get there. 
> 
> Sun Comes Up is a lot of things, but most of all it was something I needed to write for me. I needed a love story in all sorts of misshapen ways, I needed a blunt and rough and loving partnership who have their issues but make it through. I needed a win while suffering through unemployment, and Sun Comes Up gave me one.
> 
> Please do let me know what you've thought of this work. I love it a lot. Comments bring me a great amount of joy and keep me motivated!


End file.
